


Anima's Seal

by Yolashillinia



Series: Ceniro, Tactician of Elibe [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Minor Character Death, Multi, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 89,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26196787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yolashillinia/pseuds/Yolashillinia
Summary: What if Ceniro didn't die on the Dread Isle like in my other fic? What if Pent and Louise didn't get away as scot-free as they'd hoped? What if people felt Bramimond unseal the Legendary Weapons, and went looking for them? Post-FE7. Original story, many original characters. Written 2014-2016.
Relationships: Eliwood/Ninian (Fire Emblem), Fiora/Kent (Fire Emblem), Florina/Wil (Fire Emblem), Louise/Pent (Fire Emblem), Lyndis/Tactician (Fire Emblem)
Series: Ceniro, Tactician of Elibe [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864174
Comments: 8
Kudos: 4





	1. Prologue: Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Ceniro's name is pronounced 'keh- _neer_ -oh as it's originally from Quenya. The farseer is a magical GBA-like device crafted for him by Pent.

Prologue: Alive

Suddenly, he felt like someone or something punched him in the chest. Curious, he looked down, and saw about a foot and a half of arrow protruding from his chest, just under the breastplate Hector had once given him.

He blinked at it, and in the space of that blink, somehow he was staring at the sky. His whole body felt numb. Shouldn’t it hurt?

He heard Eliwood screaming. That was silly, he was supposed to be the one screaming… There were two red-heads in his vision, Eliwood and… Priscilla? That was who it was, right? They both looked terrified.

“I have to take the arrow out,” Priscilla said; he could hear her dimly, as if through a layer of glass. “Hold him still.” Eliwood turned his head and shouted an order to someone else; there was a distant, murky response.

He wasn’t going anywhere… The sky was a real pretty grey. There was a jolt through his abdomen, and suddenly his body flooded with pain. He shrieked and bucked against Eliwood, but his friend pinned him down with arms and knees, murmuring soothing – if frightened – reassurances.

Delicious coolness washed over him, and blue light, and the pain faded, replaced with a dull throbbing ache. “You can let him up now,” Priscilla said, her face white as paper, but relief in her voice.

Ceniro began to shake uncontrollably, as if a giant had picked him up. More embarrassingly, tears were filling his eyes, both from the now-vanished pain and from… from… he didn’t know.

“Get him warm,” Priscilla ordered, pulling his cloak tightly around him. Eliwood took off his own cloak and wrapped it around the shivering tactician.

“I- I-” Ceniro tried to say something, anything, but between the shaking and the… he wasn’t sobbing, was he?

“It’s all right,” Eliwood said, pulling him close and letting him lean on him. “You’ve never been injured in battle, have you? Although, for some people, they always have this sort of reaction… It’s perfectly all right. You’re in shock, it’s normal.”

“B-b-b-u-”

“Shhh. Just relax. Everything’s fine, the battle will take care of itself for a few minutes.”

Ceniro wasn’t in any state to argue, going completely and utterly to pieces where he huddled against Eliwood. He had never been so humiliated… Which didn’t matter; battles were not about dignity, and certainly not about his own ego, but he just wished… he could stop… crying…

Of course, Eliwood was sort of right – although he’d been fatally injured before, and brought back, this time just… came out of nowhere. The last time he’d been bracing for it, terrified, but half-expecting it. This time, everything had been normal one moment and the next – there was an arrow sticking out of his gut.

He tried to tell Eliwood that, somehow, with stammered words and broken sentences, his voice cracking like a rusty gate, and the lord nodded.

“You just need rest,” Priscilla said, though the anxiety in her voice reminded him of other things.

He needed to be directing the battle. There was still a super-powered morph out there. There could be other potentially-lethal situations unfolding on the battlefield as he slowly got his hyperventilating under control. Of course, reminding himself of that only made it worse again.

“Don’t worry,” Eliwood said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I want Lyn,” Ceniro said in a tiny, stuttering voice. “But she can’t leave her place. I could have her trade places with Karla but it would take at least 30 minutes for the switch… That’s too long.”

Eliwood chuckled. “You’re still thinking.”

“I n-need-”

“You need to take a break.”

“Th-the b-battle won’t s-stop until Limstella’s d-defeated, and th-then there’s the d-dragons to worry about…”

“You’re not in a condition to get up in either case.”

“Hey!” came a yell from the farseer. Lyn’s voice. “Ceniro, are you all right? Will someone answer me?

“Yeah,” said someone else. Hector, Ceniro thought. “What’s going on over there!?”

“L-l-lyn, H-hector,” Ceniro began.

“Ceniro’s taken a severe injury,” Eliwood said calmly. “He’s all right now, but he’s in shock. Can you hold your sides of the battlefield for now?”

“I can do that,” Hector said. “Wait- what was that?” His voice was suddenly hard to make out.

“Return … magic seal,” said Pent. “Not … much use … right now.”

“Right. So, let’s …”

“Hector?” Eliwood asked. “Hector?”

There was no answer.

Ceniro struggled weakly under the cloaks that were bundled around him. “I need to…”

“You want me to keep leading the northern side as well, or shall I get Florina to fly me over?” Lyn asked. “I can get Wallace or Kent to take over.”

“Can it be Kent?” they heard Sain ask.

“I think that would be a good idea, to head over here,” Eliwood said. “Perhaps Florina can take Karla back north when she returns?”

“H-h-hey,” Ceniro said.

“Hush,” Eliwood said. “Everything is fine. Just wait. Everyone knows how to fight. You taught us well. We’ll all be careful, and maybe we won’t take the kind of chances that you know how to take, but we’ll stay alive, and we’ll get closer to our goal. We can do it, just have faith in us.”

“I-I-I d-do. B-but…”

Lyn landed just as he started the hiccuping stage. “How is he?”

“He’ll be all right,” Eliwood said quietly, and didn’t let go of him until Lyn’s arms were around him. “I’m going to go back to fighting. With Marcus, we’ll handle the tactics for this valley. Don’t even let him touch the farseer until he’s recovered some more.”

“I can do that,” Lyn said with a little smile.

“W-wait,” Ceniro said. “J-just a moment. If th-there’s a magic seal to the s-south, H-hector will p-probably send the mages n-north. We sh-should send some f-fighters s-south to help.”

“I’ll do that,” Eliwood said. “I’ll tell them to keep an eye out for the magic users and protect them until they can defend themselves again, and then go help Hector directly. Will that work?”

“Y-yes. Th-they should be… well…” He pointed at a spot on the farseer’s screen. “S-sort of around here was where they were wh-when I l-last checked.”

“Understood,” Eliwood said. “Leave it to me.”

“I-I’m s-sorry,” Ceniro said to Lyn.

She hugged him tighter. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

“Th-then whose f-fault is it?” Ceniro said, trying to be angry, trying to regain some kind of control over himself. It wasn’t working. “I j-just want t-to…”

“Ceniro. Take some deep breaths. We’re going to do some Sacaean meditation, all right?”

“O-okay…” Anything to stop the trembling, or the slow leak of tears now that the initial storm had passed.

“And turn the sound on that thing off,” Lyn said, pointing at the farseer. “It’s only going to distract you and make you tense up again. Come here. Focus on me. Breathe in… Breathe out.”

After a few minutes, he started to feel like a human being again, instead of a ragdoll.

“I think I’ll be okay now,” he said, after another minute or two just to make sure.

Lyn fixed him with a severe, but fond glance. “If you’re sure. You still have to take it easy until we find an occasion to sleep.”

“I don’t know if we have that luxury,” Ceniro said, sitting up and looking towards the north-east.

“I know your giant brain is going to keep going, but I need you to stress about it less. We all do, but I do most of all.” She looked him in the eye, and he knew he could never refuse her. “No one thinks less of you for taking a wound in battle. In fact, I’m pretty sure half of them are going to congratulate you on it.”

“Well… it’s not the first one I’ve had, even for me.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Can I turn the farseer back on yet?”

“All right, I’ll risk it.” Lyn crossed her arms, pretending as if she could stop him. Well, actually, she could. All she had to do was ask nicely, and if that failed, she could always pull out her sword at him, or take the farseer.

He turned the sound back on. “Eliwood? What’s the situation?”

“You sound much better,” Eliwood said. “So I would say the situation is good. Actually, Hector managed to defeat the magic seal once and for all.”

“Thanks for sending those fighters our way,” Hector said. “Really made a difference.”

“What about up north?” Ceniro asked.

“Enemies are mostly neutralized,” Kent reported. “Not very elegantly, but neutralized nonetheless. No casualties.”

“There’s only a handful of enemies, I think, clustered around the Dragon’s Gate ruins, and of course Limstella,” Nils said. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”

“I wanted to get your opinions as well as the contextless facts that the farseer presents me with,” Ceniro said. “I’m… not going to say very much for a while. Lyn’s orders. Carry on. If I have ideas, I’ll tell you.”

“Will do,” Hector said. “Take it easy, buddy.”

“I feel guilty,” Ceniro complained to Lyn.

“Why?” Lyn asked. “You think Wil felt any less guilty when he had to be taken to the back at Castle Ostia, no matter that he saved Rebecca’s life?”

“Right.” Ceniro managed a smile. “It’s not about my ego. It’s about keeping everyone alive. Including me. And if I try to take charge while I’m not ready, I’m endangering everyone.”

“That’s useful logic,” Lyn said. “Let’s walk in the direction of the Dragon’s Gate. How do you feel about that?”

“Kinda shaky. But I can manage walking, I think.”

“Up you get.” Lyn gave him a hand, and they began to walk towards the distant ruins hand in hand.

At the ruins, Limstella unleashed the daunting power of Excalibur, the wind spell, on them, but was defeated by Matthew placing Ceniro’s mine under her feet and then she was taken out by the pegasus sisters. The group took stock of their situation while Ceniro and Lyn arrived. Pent and Louise immediately came to check him over, and most of Ceniro’s other close friends as well.

It was decided that Lyn would go with the rest, while Ceniro would stay with Merlinus and monitor the developments from outside. Renault, the bishop who had joined Kent’s group a few minutes ago, would also stay with them, and Matthew, whose arm was in a sling after his encounter with Limstella. The rest would go inside. Eliwood wasn’t too sure about some of the others, particularly Nino and Rebecca, but they begged on the power of their weaponry, and Ceniro promised he could look after them from his distant vantage point.

Eliwood, Hector, Lyn, and Athos confronted Nergal, who brought up eight last morphs in the forms of people who they had fought before, but now apparently stronger. The battle following was messy, and Ceniro almost relapsed when he realized that he was making mistakes and getting people hurt. Matthew offered an occasional off-hand comment that kept him sane for the time being.

When Nergal fell, the injured began appearing at the entrance to the Dragon’s Gate. Only then… the dragons appeared.

Ceniro was by now eerily calm, his emotion finally spent, and he could only manage a tired smile when Ninian appeared with Bramimond, now alive again. He could direct the battle against the last remaining dragon with much more equinamity, although it wasn’t so much that he had regained control as that he was just too tired to react properly to anything.

The dragon fell, and Nils made the startling suggestion that Ninian stay with Eliwood, and he return to the dragon world alone. He had a few words for Ceniro, too. “Thank you for taking care of us so well. You never hesitated to let us help, but you never let us fall into danger, either. Thank you.”

“Thank you… for being with us,” Ceniro said in return. It was all he could think of. He could imagine Nils’ bright, boyish smile.

The final portion of the army trailed out of the Dragon’s Gate, led by Hector and Lyn. Lyn rushed over to him as soon as she could, and hugged him with great joy. He could see Eliwood kissing Ninian, and several other people doing similar things with their own lovers. He wrapped his arms tightly around Lyn, like he would never let her go.


	2. Episode 1: Exile

Episode 1: Exile

“It’s lovely to be home,” Louise said yet again, in the parlour after dinner with her husband and adopted son.

“It’s certainly marvelous,” Pent said, “and we shall not be leaving on wild, continent-spanning trips for some time, I think.” He nodded significantly at her belly, which was only just beginning to show signs of pregnancy. “If I had known…”

“Lord Pent, _I_ didn’t know, so you couldn’t have known. Besides, Ceniro needed us, both of us. We couldn’t leave Erk to fight dragons on his own, could we?”

“I would rather not have done that, yes,” Erk said. “But now everything is over, so leave everything to us, all right, Lady Louise?”

She smiled. “Yes, Erk, dear. My, how the wind blows tonight!”

“It’s autumn,” Erk said. “It’s only going to get worse. And it’s raining, too…”

There was an urgent thump on the front door, a couple rooms over, and Pent rose. “I wonder who that is, in this weather…”

Ulf, the new head footman, was heading to open the door, but Pent stopped him. “I’ll get it, that’s all right.” Ulf bowed and retreated.

Pent opened the door and blinked in mild surprise. “General Douglas!”

“Pent!” Douglas gasped. He had clearly been riding hard; his horse was showing the whites of its eyes and was covered with rain and sweat. “I need to warn you – King Desmond has brought charges against you regarding… his son. I’ll be returning tomorrow to bring you to Aquleia.”

Pent blinked again. “I… don’t understand.”

“Pent… I know you were running around the continent earlier this year. You started in Nabata, but then you went to Bern for some reason. I hope he has nothing to pin on you, but…”

“His son?” Pent queried. “I was with Marquess Pherae’s group. We _saved_ his son.”

“King Desmond says otherwise. You had best work on your defense; we shall be arriving at dawn tomorrow. This is all the warning I could give you. The king does not know I am here, and with luck, he never will. Good luck, Pent.” Douglas remounted his horse and rode off, back into the not-quite-stormy night.

Pent stared after him a while, though the rain-filled wind blew around him and into his coat, before he finally closed the door and turned back to Louise. “Interesting.”

“What is the matter, Lord Pent?” she asked; she could clearly see that something was wrong.

He gave her a smile anyway. “That was Douglas. I think we’ll be taking a visit to Aquleia tomorrow.”

“Ah, I understand,” she said. He knew she had heard most of the conversation at the door. She put aside her teacup and stood. “In that case, I should prepare some things. Lord Pent, will we be dressed for battle or for elegance?”

“I think in this case we’d make more an impression if we were dressed for elegance. Not, however, without bringing our weapons.”

“Am I going too?” Erk asked, putting a bookmark in his book and standing, ready to help.

“I don’t know,” Pent said. “But let’s plan as if you are. It might be good to have you around even if they don’t ask for you. After all, they only seem to know that we were there. I doubt King Desmond would pay attention to you.”

“I don’t mind,” Erk said. “About any of those things. I shall be pleased to assist.”

“You should sleep early, then,” Pent said. “Keep all your strength up, just in case.”

Erk nodded and left the room.

“And you should as well, Louise,” Pent said. “I don’t know whether you can shoot in your condition…”

Louise laughed, a low rippling laugh that he loved so well. “Lord Pent, of course I can use my bow. I may not do nearly as much dodging, but shooting won’t affect the baby at all. I will have your back, whatever may arise.”

“Though I would still hope that you allow me to protect you.” He put his hands on her shoulders, looking down into her violet eyes. “I know you can take care of yourself, but you don’t have to take care of me and the baby at the same time. That would be too many people to take care of.”

She laughed again. “All right. I will abide by your wishes. This time.”

He smiled. “That’s good, then.”

“What will you say to them?”

“I’m not sure. We must protect the others, of course. I’m sure this has to do more with the Shrine of Seals than with Prince Zephiel. King Desmond hired those assassins himself; why should he try to pin it on us if there were not something else he wanted to protect?”

“I think you must be right,” Louise said. “It’s unlikely he’s had a change of heart in only a few months. If anything, I fear he will treat Hellene’s renewed patience with greater suspicion. And of course, he can’t reach Eliwood and Hector, and Lyn, even if he knew they were there. He has few connections in Lycia.”

“He’ll be afraid that we’ve already given up the location of the Shrine, and hope to either discredit me or forestall me with this trial. But as you know, if it were only me, I would feel little worry about giving King Mordred the location of the Shrine. Although I would wonder what Etruria’s next move would be… But it seems that King Desmond is afraid to even bring up the topic, so he is attempting to frame us in a lie.”

“So we say nothing about the Shrine?”

“I think it unlikely that it will come up. Although, if it does come up, we must be clear that we say nothing in order to protect other people, even if they’re not Etrurian. It will win us no points with King Desmond, but I think King Mordred will listen – although he must do what is best for Etruria, of course. He will be fair, of that we can have no doubt.”

“The court might be less fair… You know how much they dislike our eccentricity. Maybe I should say… how much they dislike your eccentricity… and me entirely.”

“It’s a good thing I love you so much that their dislike doesn’t matter at all,” Pent said, smiling. “And about the attempted assassination… we should of course tell the truth. Or, most of the truth. He can’t know that we saved him partly to learn of the way to the Shrine of Seals…”

“But we didn’t,” Louise reminded him. “We recovered the Fire Emblem to learn the way. We learned that Prince Zephiel was in danger from overhearing the assassins themselves while attempting to recover the Fire Emblem. We could simply say that we were coming back to visit again, this time with our traveling companions, and heard the commotion.”

“Yes, you are right. We should also say as little as possible about everything else. Desmond doesn’t need to know about Nergal. Now that would get us in trouble for insanity.” Pent chuckled.

“Then everything is simple, is it not?” Louise asked, resting her hands on his chest. He put his arms around her, his wife and the soon-to-be mother of their child.

“In theory, yes. But in practice… everything is much more difficult. We should be prepared for everything, including… losing.”

“We were prepared for that from the moment we went to speak to Hellene,” Louise said resolutely.

“I love you,” Pent said, and kissed her.

One week later, the royal courthouse was filled to overflowing, the air humming with politely hushed gossip. King Mordred was in the judge’s seat, his face impassive; King Desmond sat next to him, looking irritated.

Trumpets blew, and the crowd hushed as the court crier announced the defendants. “Lord Pent and Lady Louise, Count and Countess Reglay!”

The great doors swung open and there stood Pent, resplendant in dark blue velvet, and Louise, radiant in rose-like pink and her golden hair done up elaborately, on his arm. Her bow was at her side, even though she was wearing the finest in fashionable ruffled lacy gowns, and murmurs followed her as together they walked confidently down to their assigned place at the front of the court, facing the kings. Pent bowed low, and Louise curtseyed. She sat, but he remained standing, ready to face whatever King Desmond had to say.

King Mordred stood. “Court is now in session for the trial of Lord Pent and Lady Louise. King Desmond, state your charges.”

Desmond stood, fixing Pent with a baleful look. “We do hereby acuse these two, Count and Countess Reglay, of plotting, aiding, and abetting an attempted assassination on our son, Crown Prince Zephiel of Bern.”

“Ridiculous,” Pent said immediately.

“Silence!” Desmond barked. “You were there, that night, were you not? You were identified by the guards and by General Murdock. There were dead assassins everywhere, assassins hired by you and defeated by the brave guards of the manse!”

Pent snorted. “Hardly. The guards of the manse had been subdued by the assassins by the time we arrived. I was calling on the Queen with some friends and interrupted them at their work. We were the ones who drove off or killed the assassins!”

“Such insolence,” growled Desmond. “You are a most impudent man, Count Reglay. Show some respect and manners!”

“Kings and counts, queens and countesses, we are all men and women,” Pent said. “But I apologize if I have offended your Royal Highness.”

“Who were these others you were with, if we may ask?” Mordred interjected.

“I would rather not say, for their own protection,” Pent replied. “Surely King Desmond already knows their names. If not, I will not betray them.”

Mordred glanced at Desmond, who shot a look back. “All I know is that they were from Lycia. One of them may indeed be the new Marquess Pherae.”

Pent was silent. Even if Desmond suspected, or even if he knew for certain, Hector and Eliwood at least were beyond his reach currently. Lyn, he wasn’t so sure about, but she was clever and had probably already taken Ceniro back to the plains. Desmond would be hard-pressed to find her even if he knew about her.

From there, things took a grueling pace. Every detail in each side’s opening statement was picked apart, and several times King Mordred had to ask peace to be restored.

“I tell you, I am innocent,” Pent said, his face the very picture of innocence. “I would not assassinate anyone, and I certainly would not hire others to do it. That is against my character.”

“What character?” sneered Desmond.

“Your Majesty, I am Etruria’s Mage General, and my wife is an elite sniper. We are trusted by the King of Etruria, the Army of Etruria, and by the people of Reglay. If, for whatever reason, we abandoned this trust and all sense and we were truly at the manse to attack the prince, with allies, whether the dead assassins you found or others, your guards there would not have stood a chance.”

“He does have a point,” Mordred said. “He was not made General for nothing.”

“But what would I gain from such a thing? I have no wish to provoke the might of Bern, nor do I harbour any ill-will against her royal son, Crown Prince Zephiel.”

“What would you gain from it? Nothing, if you were found out. But if not… you would uproot the entire royal line of Bern, putting her into chaos. I know only too well the difficulty of succession of my kingdom! Reglay, I will have my revenge…”

“For what?” Pent asked, and suddenly the discussion was no longer about Zephiel but about the true reason for the trial. Pent’s eyes gleamed, tacitly daring the king to mention the Shrine of Seals.

The court was hushed, watching the two men lock eyes and wills, Pent with a tense smile and Desmond with a heated glare. Louise saw her husband begin to sweat again, but when she glanced over at the king, his forehead was also covered in a thin sheen. She folded her hands, silently praying that St. Elimine would aid them.

“What’s this all about?” Mordred asked.

“I think it is better both for His Majesty and for me if I remain silent,” Pent said slowly.

“At least you can be remotely reasonable, Reglay.”

“It is for my own benefit as well as Your Majesty’s.”

“If it would aid this trial…”

“I said it is of no consequence!” Desmond burst out, and Mordred shut up. “To return to the main point… I have one thing that even you cannot deny, Reglay.” He reached into his robe and withdrew a sheet of paper. “King Mordred, if you would have a look at this.”

Mordred took it with some confusion and opened it. He scanned it quickly, and then again more carefully, a frown spreading across his face. “Lord Pent… is this true?”

Pent spread his hands. “I must confess to being completely in the dark about the paper Your Majesty holds.”

“There is a simple test,” Desmond said. “Ask him to write these words and compare them.”

A table, paper, pen, and ink were brought for Pent, who sat and took the pen with his own frown of apprehensive confusion. Louise felt a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach that was wholly unrelated to the baby, and knew that Pent must be feeling the same.

Mordred cleared his throat and began to read. “Time… Prince… Target… Recompense… Already… and your signature, if you please.”

Pent glared at Desmond and wrote the words, then stood, handing his sheet of paper to a page. “Your Majesty, what exactly does this note say?” he demanded.

Mordred cleared his throat again, looking uncomfortable, and read. “Brendan Reed – the time has come. The prince is your next target. Recompense is already in the usual place. Pent, Count Reglay.”

“That is an outrage!” Pent exclaimed. “I never wrote any such note. I have had no contact with Brendan Reed or any of his vigilante group the Black Fang.”

“Did you not?” Desmond asked softly. Pent’s fingers twitched; Louise knew that he wished for nothing more than to burn that lying scrap of paper.

“I had not until the night I helped their own top assassin defend your son from their blades,” Pent said in a deadly low voice.

Mordred blinked. “That is a new turn…”

“They match,” Desmond interrupted, yet Pent would have sworn there was a hint of relief on his face. “They match! Reglay, you fool, you should not have left this lying around…”

“And where exactly was it lying around?” Pent demanded.

“On the body of the assassin leader.”

“Whose name was?”

“How should I know?”

“The head of your investigations is lacking in thoroughness,” Pent said. “The leader of the assassins that night was a woman named Ursula, the Blue Crow. She was slain by Jaffar, a former assassin; you may know him by the name of Angel of Death. Jaffar did this to protect a young girl named Nino, who was with Jaffar and wished that the prince be spared. Both have since disappeared. I have had no hand in any of this!”

“A woman was the leader of the assassins?” Desmond smirked. “You are making this up. There were no dead women found at the manse.”

Pent bit his tongue. Of course; Ursula’s body had appeared at Nergal’s lair on Valor, so there wouldn’t have been a body to find. “It was… removed by a fourth party.”

“A fourth party; how convenient,” Desmond said.

“You do seem to know an awful lot that you are not telling us, Pent,” Mordred said. “And this paper is unsettling.”

Pent straightened. “There is much I cannot tell you because either it would bring others into danger, or you would simply think me mad. More mad,” he corrected himself, his gaze sweeping the galleries. “In any case, this paper is a forgery, placed on the body of a random assassin to implicate me instead of the true culprits of this crime.”

“And who might you accuse them of being?” Desmond said, smirking, daring Pent to speak.

Pent dared. He took a deep breath; he had nothing left to lose. “I happen to know, Your Majesty, that _you_ were the one who hired the assassins to kill your son!”

Desmond’s eyes almost bulged out of his head, but that was nothing compared to the uproar that broke loose in the galleries.

“You do not trust Etruria!” Pent shouted. “You do not trust your own son, and favour your daughter-”

“Order!” Mordred shouted, interrupting everyone. Louise hoped that Pent hadn’t been heard. Things could be very bad for them, even worse than before, if Desmond had heard what he said.

Slowly, relative quiet returned to the courtroom, and the fainted ladies were removed. There was still a tense buzz humming through the hall, and Pent was still glaring defiantly at Desmond, who was glaring triumphantly back.

“There shall be a half-hour recess for the jury,” Mordred announced.

“Your Majesty-” began Pent.

“Lord Pent, if you refuse to speak further, there is nothing more to do,” Mordred said tiredly, and Pent shut up. He didn’t know what else to do. It might have been possible, dancing through the pitfalls of protecting the others and not offending King Desmond further and showing that he was perfectly sane and telling the truth, but at this point… it looked rather the opposite.

He sat down next to Louise to await the return of the jury and the kings.

She took his hand. “It’s all right, Lord Pent.”

“It’s not going well, Louise.”

“That is an understatement,” she said, smiling. “But it’s all right. I am prepared.”

“I can’t do anything else,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting him to pull out forged evidence.”

“Nor was I… Perhaps King Mordred will restore reason.”

“I wouldn’t count on it…”

“I am not. But there is always hope. Isn’t that what Lord Eliwood liked to say? Something like that?”

“Perhaps he did,” Pent said, and smiled finally. “In any case, even once all is said and done in this room, there is always hope. They won’t execute us. Where there’s life, there’s hope, someone else liked to say.”

“There’s plenty of life here,” she said coyly, and he couldn’t help but smile at her.

Smiles faded when the jury and the kings re-entered the courtroom, all looking grim, and they both stood to face them.

“In light of this evidence…” Mordred said slowly, “there seems little doubt that Count Reglay is an assassin and a traitor to Etruria.”

Pent momentarily looked stricken; he had not expected the king to be quite so harsh. There was little doubt what their fate was to be, now.

Louise did the only thing that she could; she put a hand to her head, gave a little moan, and faked a fainting fit. Pent reached to catch her – of course he knew she was in no trouble, he knew the difference between her ‘distraction’ faints and her rare, real ones – and she sank into his strong arms, looking up anxiously at his silver-grey eyes. There was a flutter, and a servant gave Pent a damp scented handkerchief to dab at her forehead with.

But King Desmond was unmoved. “I am glad you see reason, King Mordred. This is an excellent renewal of our countries’ ancient friendship.”

Most of the court was unmoved as well, though some of them exclaimed that it was very hard to put this ordeal on a lady with child. Louise had not thought her little act would help much, but she had done what she could.

After a moment, she ‘recovered’, and sat up in Pent’s arms, and both turned towards the kings for Mordred’s official judgement.

“I am sorry,” King Mordred said. “For the benefit of both Etruria and Bern and the friendship between them, Count Reglay is hereby stripped of his rank, title, and military standing, and banished from Etruria. If it should so come to pass that he finds a way to clear his name by good deeds…”

“I doubt that will happen,” scoffed Desmond. “If he is banished, how will you learn of them?”

“If Pent Reglay should prove that he is worthy of the trust of Etruria, then these things shall be restored to him.” Mordred’s voice indicated he thought there was small chance of it. “You have three days to leave the country. Farewell.”

Pent raised Louise to her feet, and both bowed to the kings before turning to leave, almost as calm and proud as they had been when they walked in.

They had not gotten far outside of the courtroom when they heard Douglas signalling them quietly. “Pent! Here!”

“What is it?” Pent asked.

“First, a note from the king.” Douglas handed it over, and Pent read it. It was a simple apology which, oddly enough, comforted Pent, though it did no one any good at the moment. “Next… my own sympathies.”

“Louise and I thank you, but we don’t really need them,” Pent said. “We were mostly prepared for this outcome. What was that thing about proving our worth?”

“I don’t really know,” Douglas said. He lowered his voice. “But if that paper was a forgery, you could find out where it came from – and if the real thing exists. I can hardly believe your own accusation, and yet…”

“Don’t worry about it, Douglas,” Pent said. “I shouldn’t have said that, but I was a little desperate – and a lot angry – and wanted to knock him around a little. I don’t want you in trouble over it.”

“Pent, you’re too hot-headed _and_ too air-headed,” Douglas said with gruff affection. “Where will you go?”

“I think we’d better not say,” Pent said. “But I will give you a hint. You remember that young man last year…?”

Douglas nodded. “St. Elimine be with you on your journey.”

“Thank you, Douglas. For all your help. Take care.”

Far away in Lycia, in Pherae, Eliwood and Ninian walked together under the fading trees in the garden. The pool there reflected the sky, a colour of blue the same paleness as Ninian’s seafoam-green hair.

“Pherae is truly lovely,” Ninian said. “Nils and I didn’t spend much time here… but I’m glad I have the chance now.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Eliwood said, squeezing her hand under his arm. “You seem to complete the place, with your ethereal beauty…”

She blushed and giggled a little. “Lord Eliwood, you say the sweetest things.”

“I say true things, don’t I?”

“No, no, no… I don’t deserve such extravagance.”

“Of course you do. What do you say you deserve, then?”

She thought for a moment. “I’m not sure that ‘deserve’ is the right word anymore…”

“We’re making progress,” Eliwood teased her.

She laughed. “I am happy that we get to be together. And there are so many people here who I know, I’m truly not lonely at all.”

“I would never want you to be lonely.”

“But even when you are working with Marcus and Merlinus, I can spend time with Isadora and your dear mother. I am looking forward to Isadora’s wedding!”

“As am I. Both Isadora and Harken have looked much happier since we returned. Do you think Harken is recovering?”

“I think so. I suspect he is not fully recovered yet, but he only needs time and Isadora’s support, which she’s much happier to give him now.” Ninian turned to him. “I do have a question, though, about something else.”

“What is it?”

“What are you going to do with Durandal?”

Eliwood frowned. “I… don’t know. I don’t think I should keep it. Its purpose has been fulfilled. But I don’t dare trust it to anyone else, and I’m too busy to head to Ostia right now…”

“Perhaps in a short while, or… or you could send me?”

“Would that be all right?” Eliwood asked, his blue eyes full of concern for his fiancée.

She smiled up at him. “I think it would be. But it doesn’t have to be right now, of course. I think we will know when the time is right.”

“You’re probably right. Shall we go inside? It’s getting dark already.”

“There will be frost tonight,” she said, touching a leaf.

In Ostia, Hector slumped on the throne that he still thought of as his brother’s. “Oswin, I’m bored.”

Oswin looked up from the reports Matthew was holding. “Surely you are not out of things to do.”

“That’s not it,” Hector said. “I have too many things to do. I have thirty seconds to slouch here and complain at you, and then some other lord so-and-so is going to come ask for a stupid favour that I’m probably not going to grant anyway. I want to fight something.”

“I can take you on after dinner, if you wish,” Oswin said.

“Nah, I have my own paperwork to do. Otherwise…” He made an evil face at Matthew, who grinned innocently back at him.

“You miss the rest of our companions, do you not?” asked the spy cheerfully.

“I do, exactly. This was so sudden, coming back and having to take the reins. Ugh, why couldn’t you have chosen a more convenient time?” Hector complained at his departed brother.

The tapping of armoured boots on flagstones caught their attention. “Lord Uther had no say in the matter,” said a stern female voice, and Uther’s captain, Commander Freya, approached Hector, glaring at him. “Your brother…”

“I was just being silly,” Hector replied, nettled. “You know I respect my brother. Miss my brother.” She raised her eyebrow. “Well… maybe I didn’t show it a lot. But I did. I understand he did a lot for me even in his last days. And you were there through all of it, so you know it better than me. …Also, what the hell is a ‘convenient’ time to pass away? There’s no such thing.”

She gave him a nod that said he had better remember it, and stalked away again. “Your 4:30 is here, so sit up.”

Hector grumbled under his breath and hauled himself up. “Just a minute. I have something I need to say to Oswin, first.”

“Make it quick,” she said, and shut the door behind her.

Hector turned to Oswin and spoke quickly and quietly. “Oswin… you know I still have Armads, right?”

“Is that what is bothering you?” Oswin asked.

“It shouldn’t be here in Ostia. If anyone found out what it was, we could have a problem. And I can’t watch it obsessively – that way lies madness. Even Matthew can’t watch it obsessively.”

“I’d rather not, certainly,” Matthew said. “What does my young master intend to do?”

Hector grimaced at him. “I’m the Marquess of Ostia, leader of the Lycian League, and you still call me ‘young master’?”

“You’re wasting time, young master,” Matthew replied.

“What I need… is enough of a break to haul it back to the Western Isles – secretly.”

“I don’t think you’ll get that much of a break until spring,” Oswin said evenly. “Can you hold out until then?”

Hector sighed, exasperated, and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, yeah, I guess so. I’d like to see Eliwood about it first, too. After all, he still has Durandal.”

“I think that will be simpler to arrange,” Oswin said. “I’ll get on that.”

“Thanks, Oswin.” Hector turned back to the door. “All right, who was it at 4:30?”

And in Sacae, Ceniro was sitting on his knees in a tiny ger, wearing a deel, a traditional Sacaean robe. Lyn carefully swirled the tea bowl in a ceremonial fashion with a soft embroidered cloth folded just so, twice, three times, and then set the bowl down carefully in a specific spot. She refolded the cloth and placed it in another specific spot, then rearranged the bowls and utensils for no reason Ceniro could see.

Ceniro was patient, but she had been doing these sort of things for about ten minutes already. “Lyn?” he whispered, knowing it was horribly rude to interrupt the tea ceremony, but wondering just how long this took.

“What?” Lyn whispered back, pausing in her slow, deliberate movements.

“Are we going to… actually drink the tea at some point?”

She glared at him, but put down the things with the sigh. “I really wanted to show you this custom… It’s an old, very formal, traditional custom that is very important to my people…”

“It’s very inefficient,” Ceniro teased. “Are all Sacaean customs this inefficient?”

“You know very well that we have many extremely efficient customs,” Lyn retorted. “Besides, what do you call Lycian ladies who spend hours every day putting on make-up and doing their hair?”

“All right,” Ceniro said, smiling. “Anyway, I can tell you’re even more impatient than I am.”

“Yes… You know what? I’m not even very good at this. Let’s just have tea. I’ll get a real master to show you some other time.”

“That sounds fine to me.”

“My mother had trouble learning it, too,” Lyn said, a slight frown on her face. “My father was the only one who was any good…”

Ceniro leaned forward and touched her face with his hand. “Lyn… You’re fine. I was just being an ass.”

“You’re not being an ass,” Lyn said, leaning towards him.

Their lips almost touched when there was a shout from outside. “Ceniro! Are you in there?”

Lyn jumped and almost bonked him in the head. “Who’s that?”

Ceniro looked up, frowning. “It sounded like Pent. What’s he doing here? Now?” He got up and pushed aside the curtain-door of the ger.

There was Pent, on a grey horse, and Louise beside him on a white horse, and several familiar faces. Erk, George, Caddie, Yens, Andy, and Frank, all looking various degrees between smug and simply happy to see him. Beside them was Rath, looking impassive as usual. “Pent…! What…”

“It’s a bit of a story,” Pent said amiably. “To tell the short version, we’re now homeless. And we could use your help getting unhomeless.”

Ceniro stared like a fish out of water.


	3. Episode 2: Mercenaries, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I decided that in my fic, Sacaean culture would be largely Mongolian, but place names would be from Native American words – I get both vibes from the hints the game drops.

Episode 2: Mercenaries, Part 1

“You’ve gone native,” Pent said, nodding at Ceniro’s deel robe.

“Em.” Ceniro still hadn’t recovered use of his voice yet.

“It looks lovely,” Louise said. “But Lord Pent is perhaps pretending a little too hard that nothing is wrong. We’re actually being chased.”

“That’s why you need my help?” Ceniro asked, still confused.

“We’re being chased by Bern soldiers,” Pent explained, a little more clearly. “We have been for several days now, although we gained a lot of time when we went to the Kutolah to gain Rath’s help in finding you. He is an excellent tracker.”

“You couldn’t take them yourself?” Ceniro asked mildly.

“We certainly could,” George broke in. “But we would still need your help after that, and it’d be nice to work with you again, Ceniro.”

“It’s nice to see you all too,” Ceniro said, smiling at them. “One moment while I get the farseer. How much time do we have?”

“I’ll go change,” Lyn said, ducking into the ger.

“We have a few hours,” Pent said. “No rush. But I’m sure they haven’t lost us yet.”

“Then you have time to explain to me why on earth you’re running from Bern soldiers. Don’t tell me something happened in politics?”

“Then I won’t,” Pent said. “But it did.”

“It did,” Erk said flatly. “King Desmond found out… something, and accused Pent of setting the assassins on Prince Zephiel. He even had an obviously forged piece of evidence in Pent’s own writing.”

Ceniro blinked. “So he got you… exiled? And wants to finish the job?”

“I think that’s the gist of it,” Pent said. “Shall we take tea and I’ll start from the beginning? Even Rath here hasn’t heard the whole story. We’ve been travelling pretty quickly.”

Ceniro smirked. “Would you like to take traditional Sacaean tea? I think we have time…”

Rath gave a rare smile.

They went inside, where Lyn was now changed into something more practical to fight in, and Ceniro served regular tea. He introduced Lyn to the Reglay soldiers, all of whom fell over themselves to be polite to her, partly because she was beautiful, and partly because of the way she carried herself and her sword. And partly because Pent and Louise were friendly with her, probably.

Rath nodded to Ceniro. “The deel looks good on you.”

“Thanks,” Ceniro said. “It’s really comfortable.”

“Be careful around other tribes,” Rath said. “They do not know you as I do. They might think you are an ignorant Lycian attempting to frivolously steal our culture, whether or not you are engaged to Lyn.”

“I… understand,” Ceniro said. “Lyn warned me as much as well, but… you don’t say no to a Sacaean princess, either.”

Rath nodded sagely. “Agreed.”

“Pent said you were back with the Kutolah?” Ceniro asked.

“I was,” Rath said. “I came home to see my father. It had been too long since I visited. But I will help you fight your enemies.”

“Pent’s enemies…” Ceniro said. “Thank you. Your skills mean a lot, especially here in what must be your element.”

Rath nodded slightly.

“So what did you do with the Sol Katti?” Pent asked. “I see you have only your Mani Katti.”

“I wasn’t sure where Athos got it from, and I haven’t had time to traverse all of Sacae to find its resting place,” Lyn answered. “So I went to the shrine where the Mani Katti originally lay and placed it there for safekeeping. I have no doubt that Ceniro and I will stumble across the correct place sooner or later.”

“I have no doubt that you will as well,” Pent said, smiling. “Would you like my help, while I’m around?”

“He _is_ good at finding long-lost special places,” Ceniro said.

“And this time no one is likely to be racing us there,” Louise said. “Although I have the feeling that King Desmond is not going to stop sending people after us for a while.”

“So what’s the story behind your… homelessness?” Ceniro asked. “You’ve been exiled?”

“Yes,” said Pent, and began to tell of the sudden summons to Aquleia, of which they would have had no warning but for Douglas’s friendship, and the topsy-turvy trial, and the forged evidence, and how King Mordred’s impartiality and reasonableness could not help when Pent couldn’t even explain the truth freely, and their subsequent demotion and exile. “Louise and I would have gone alone, but we couldn’t shake these loyal few. Cavven stayed to mind the house with the rest of the guards and the servants, although goodness knows what will become of it while we’re gone.”

“And so your prediction during our journey to defeat Nergal came true…” Ceniro said.

“So it has,” Pent said cheerfully. “I don’t think we really mind. We were less prepared for it as we’d been home for a couple months, but it’s not entirely unexpected, either.”

“Although…” Louise said, “since Desmond produced forged evidence, I think think there is a chance we can prove our innocence… But first we have to deal with the soldiers trying to silence us altogether.”

Ceniro reflexively checked the farseer, but it still showed nothing, and he trusted that Bern’s soldiers were not as stealthy as either Sacaeans or as Limstella’s morphs. “We’re still good.”

“Excellent!” Pent said. “What do you say, Lyn? Shall we help you find the Sol Katti’s origin?”

“I’ll think about it,” she said. “You still haven’t explained why you want Ceniro’s help _after_ you defeat the ones chasing you.”

Pent sobered. “Well… there’s a few things. First… we’d like to remain on the move, and since Ceniro has a tendency to get itchy feet, we thought we might be able to follow him. Also, there’s the matter that if Desmond has a written order purported from me to the Black Fang, there might be a written order from Desmond to the Black Fang as well.”

“Wouldn’t he say that’s also a forgery?” Ceniro asked.

“It’s possible. But it would at least be a start to clearing our names, and perhaps give us a clue as to where to go next. I’ve been thinking about it, and while it’s hard to see what to do from here, those are possible goals. But I wanted to ask your advice on it first.”

“It is, of course, up to you,” Louise said gently. “I know you’ve been happy with Lyn these last few months, and we wouldn’t want to take you away from that.”

Ceniro and Lyn looked at each other.

“I think this is actually a very good thing,” Lyn said at last. “We’ve been drifting across the plains without any real purpose…”

“That’s not entirely true,” Ceniro interrupted. “You wanted to find other Lorca survivors and build a new clan, didn’t you?”

“Yes, well…” Lyn’s shoulders slumped. “It’s been almost three years since the Lorca were torn apart. If they wouldn’t follow me then, a little while longer won’t make them follow me any less.”

“You’ve matured a lot even since we first set out together,” Ceniro said, smiling. “I think you’d have a better chance than you think. But maybe we can do both? Or would they be wary of joining a group with so many Etrurians and me?”

“Maybe,” Lyn said, with a glance at Rath, who had always followed them regardless. “If they weren’t mercenaries already, they’d be unlikely to join such a mixed group, and certainly not one on a quest. So… I guess we can find out where they are as we help Pent, but I don’t think my silly plan will come to fruition right now.”

“It’s not silly,” Pent said. “It’s very admirable. Though I know little of your people.”

“If we’re searching for record of the Black Fang, we’ll be going into Bern,” Lyn said. “You know what? I’d rather go adventuring anyway.” She smiled at them.

“Thank you, Lyn,” Louise said. “We would never try to drag Ceniro away from you without both of your approvals.”

“Besides,” Lyn said. “Didn’t someone say that you’re pregnant? If it comes to it, I can be your midwife while we’re travelling. I helped my mother several times when I was younger.”

Louise, Ceniro, and Erk blushed. “That’s very kind of you,” Louise said, not having expected that. “I will need your help, yes.”

Ceniro was slightly relieved when the farseer pinged, announcing that unknown and probably hostile persons had come within range of its scanner. He stood. “All right. We have about half an hour before they reach this ger. We should get into position.” He looked at the tiny soldiers, trying to guess what kind they were. “Looks like… mostly lightly-armoured foot soldiers, with some archers, and a few cavalry riders. Let’s go outside and I’ll give orders.”

They followed him outside, and he pointed north-west. “They’re coming from that direction, so Lyn, Louise, and Rath, I want you to head north. Rath, you’ll be the furthest north so you can sweep around west and trap them. Pent, Erk, you’ll go with Andy and Frank west from here and so trap them against our archers with your magic while the cavaliers head north-east to join with Rath. Remember to target the archers first. Andy, Frank, try to take on the enemy cavaliers.”

“And the rest of us?” asked George.

“We’re the bait,” Ceniro said. “I know you were mostly an archer last time, George, but I need you to be a swordsman this battle. Pent, can you lend me your cloak?”

“It is a distinctive lavender hue, isn’t it?” Pent said, passing it over.

It didn’t exactly go with Ceniro’s burgundy deel, but it covered most of it and he thought that Bernese soldiers could forgive him a little fashion mishap under the circumstances that they were all trying to kill each other. “Right. I’m not nearly as tall as you are, but hopefully they’ll go for me. Now… we’re outnumbered at least two to one, but fight hard and dodge quick, and most importantly, let me guide you, and we’ll be fine.”

“Got it!” Andy said, grinning happily, and turned to ride off. Pent and Erk mounted up and followed the yellow and blue knights.

“Louise, how good are you at archery on horseback?” Ceniro asked.

“I’m decently good at it,” Louise said. “But… I think I’d prefer to fight on foot for now. I’ll ride to my place, but… there’s too much twisting in horseback archery.”

“I understand,” Ceniro said. “Just wanted to make sure.”

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “I’m not that far along yet.”

“So you want me as an archer?” Lyn asked. “You sure?”

“Yes. I think the enemy will shy away from the magic, even if it is towards your arrows, and I need you to stay near Louise. I’ll let you know when the best time to draw your sword is, don’t worry.”

“And you?” she asked, stepping a little closer and dropping her voice.

“Oh!” Ceniro exclaimed. “I forgot. One minute.” He ducked back into the ger, frantically scanning the interior. “Here it is!” He seized his new katana and headed back outside. “The Bern soldiers are going to be awfully confused by Lord Pent wielding a sword instead of magic…”

“What’s that?” Pent asked. “Dare I believe my ears?”

“…No,” Ceniro said, teasing back. “Absolutely not. But yes, Lyn has been giving me lessons. I should be able to survive for a few seconds on my own.”

“I’ll keep an eye on you,” George assured him.

“You keep an eye on yourself, and I’ll let you know if I’m in trouble,” Ceniro told him. “Let’s advance slightly. No sense in delaying the battle longer than necessary.”

“After you, ‘Lord Pent’,” Yens said, grinning.

The leader of the Bern forces spotted Ceniro shortly after Ceniro saw him with his own eyes, and pointed at him. The rest of the Bern soldiers followed their leader steadily, confidently – into Ceniro’s trap.

“Lord Pent!” cried the Bern captain. “You may as well give up here! You’re far outnumbered- Where’s Lady Louise?”

“I sent her on ahead,” Ceniro said, trying to copy Pent’s voice. “She’s safely away from you now. As if I’d let you harm her!” In his ear, Louise giggled and Pent chuckled.

The Bern captain’s jaw clenched. “You can never hide from the might of Bern! Attack!”

“Hold steady,” Ceniro murmured. “Pent, Erk, on my mark…”

“Hang on…” the captain said. “You’re not Pent! You’re too short! Where is he!?”

“Come find out,” Ceniro said, shrugging off Pent’s cloak and drawing his katana.

The captain roared a challenge and continued running at him.

“Pent! Now!” Ceniro yelled, and thunder struck the soldier behind the captain.

The following battle was very simple by Ceniro’s standards, and only forty minutes later they were the uncontested victors.

Ceniro hadn’t killed anyone, in fact had only crossed weapons with one soldier at one time, but he looked at the fallen Bernese with regret. “I wonder if they had any idea it might turn out like this.”

Lyn rested a hand on his shoulder. “You can’t think like that.”

“It’s hard not to,” Ceniro said. “For one thing… it might be easy to forget in the heat of the moment, but not when you see actual dead people. Haven’t seen them in a while, either, not since we defeated… Lloyd. And another thing… it’s what Eliwood would say.”

Lyn smiled. “I guess you’re right. But Pent and Louise are safe for now. None of these will bring word back to King Desmond.”

“That’s true,” Ceniro said. “So, Pent, what is our next move?”

Pent shrugged. “That’s up to you, really. Just as long as we’re out of Bern’s sight, it doesn’t matter to us, does it, my dear?”

Louise shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, Lord Pent. As long as we’re together, I am happy. So, Ceniro… lead us where you will.”

Andy clapped his hands. “Are we becoming mercenaries again?”

“Mercenaries?” Lyn asked doubtfully.

“Well… we will need some kind of income to feed ourselves,” Ceniro said. “Lyn, how do the plainspeople do it?”

“Every tribe has a number of hunters, and some traders who go to towns to exchange wares,” Lyn said. “I… we could do that too, but I’m not sure if that would work very well…”

Ceniro stared at her. “You don’t want to be a mercenary, and you don’t want us to go full Sacaean.”

“I never said I didn’t want to be a mercenary!” Lyn said. “I just never considered it before.”

“I think we should be mercenaries,” Pent said. “Our skills are highly suited towards it.”

“Until we start making a name for ourselves,” Caddie said. “Then people just might wonder who the mercenary group full of mages and archers belongs to.”

“That’s why we put Ceniro’s name on it!” Pent said enthusiastically.

“W-wait, what?” Ceniro said. “Why me??”

“You know, the only person here who’s had solid mercenary experience is Rath,” Lyn said.

“Well, we do too,” Frank said, gesturing at his younger brother.

“Ah, forgive me,” Lyn said, bowing slightly to them. “I did not know.”

“No problem,” Andy said.

“Well then,” Ceniro said, “Rath, how do we go about becoming a mercenary group?”

Rath looked startled to see everyone looking at him, and Ceniro wished he could have made it a little more private. “There are… areas in towns in which mercenaries congregate, whether in groups or individually. There is no need to register yourself with any sort of authority. If anyone comes by to hire you, the leader is generally the spokesman for the group.”

“But how do you get hired?” Ceniro asked.

“You wait,” Rath said simply. “Therefore… it depends on what the ‘face’ of your group is.”

“So… even if you all make me the leader, I should definitely not hang out in this area alone,” Ceniro said. “I’m hardly intimidating or even look like I can fight. I should take someone who looks like they know how to fight.”

Rath nodded. “There is no need for the entire group to loiter in one place at once. There are inns in those parts of town that offer a special rate for mercenaries between jobs.”

“This does sound promising,” Lyn said. “Who do you want with you?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ceniro said, holding up his hands. “Why do you keep saying I’m the leader?”

“I’m not going to be the leader,” Pent said.

“Why not Lyn? Then we can use the Lyn’s Legion name that Sain coined a couple years ago.”

“No, because Sain isn’t here,” Lyn said. “It would be most unfair to do that.”

“Is that your only reason?” Ceniro asked.

“No. My other reason is that you’re a brilliant leader, despite your shyness, and you need an opportunity to realize that.”

Ceniro glared at her. “That’s a terrible reason and I don’t like it.”

Louise touched his arm. “Ceniro, dear, why don’t you want to be our leader? We all look to you anyway.”

“I’m… I’m not used to being acknowledged as the leader. I go on other people’s quests to see the world and keep them alive, not have people follow me for my own purposes…”

“Well, maybe it’s time to change that,” Erk said. “I for one will gladly follow you.”

Ceniro looked around, sighed, and hung his head. “I guess there’s no getting out of this one, is there.”

“Certainly not,” cried Lyn. “Now… you were saying about names?”

Everyone had ideas for those, some of them ridiculous, like The Ceniro Corps, or Ceniro’s Combatants, but eventually Ceniro allowed them to pick Ceniro’s Elite Company.

“You’re all elite,” he said, still not very happy about the whole thing.

“Fantastic!” Andy said, and rubbed Ceniro’s head, messing up his hair. He needed a haircut. “To Bulgar!”

“Do we really want to go to Bulgar?” Ceniro said. “King Desmond will surely be expecting you to head towards civilization. And even if his soldiers bring no word back – if we bury them, they can vanish without a trace – he’ll certainly suspect you’re still alive.”

“That’s true,” Pent said. “Where would you suggest?”

“I don’t know,” Lyn said. “I don’t know where the mercenaries hang out…”

“In Matowa,” Rath said. “There is a small mercenary community there, but the town is not so large that spies can be everywhere. On the other hand, a group as large as this may inspire comment and remembrance.”

“We’ll chance it,” Ceniro said. “We only need one job to get started, and then we never have to go there again. In fact, we should take that time to dump any identifying colours of clothing.” He looked at Pent, who nodded.

“Yes, I suppose I’m rather distinctive whenever I wear blue or lavender. I apologize.”

“And I shall stop wearing rose and peach,” Louise said, and giggled. “Oh, this is so exciting!”

Lyn laughed. “I’ll help you find something that you like.”

Erk mumbled something to himself, glancing at his blue cloak.

“Even you,” Ceniro said to Andy and Frank. “You should at least get your armour repainted something other than blue and yellow.”

The brothers looked at each other. “I didn’t even think about us,” Frank said. “Brown’s pretty non-descript. Brown and brown?”

“Hey,” Ceniro said – his favourite colour to wear was brown.

“What?” said Frank, who didn’t get it.

“Never mind,” Ceniro said. “As long as you look slightly less… shiny when you’re done.”

Andy laughed. “Shiny. I like it. But as you say.”

“We can remain the night here, though,” Lyn said. “It’s getting dark, your pursuers have been defeated, and you must be tired. I’ll start cooking. Ceniro, come help me.”

“Yes, Lyn.”

“Thank you, Lyn, Ceniro,” said Pent said, bowing to them.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lyn said, smiling, and vanished into the ger.

Four days later, they were in Matowa, and Ceniro was loitering in the street with Caddie and Rath, waiting for anyone to hire them. There was a last minute fluster as Andy came to ask if they should follow any sort of colour scheme with their new colours, but Ceniro decided against it. Snow was in the air, and he wondered if they’d get any work at all so quickly.

“Ceniro,” Caddie said, and gave him a nudge, gesturing subtly down the street.

Ceniro looked, and started.

Roger of Deis was riding down the street, followed by his captains Phil and Paul and several other servant-like people.

Ceniro jumped up. “Caddie, go inside a moment. They could recognize you.”

“You know this lord?” Rath asked.

“Yes, he’s from Etruria as well. But he probably won’t connect me to Pent currently. I want to talk to him.”

“I’m right behind you,” Rath said calmly.

Caddie hastened into the inn, and Ceniro walked out into the street. “Um… hello?” He really had to work on greeting people.

Roger of Deis didn’t even acknowledge him. The youth had grown into a young man, and he somehow reminded Ceniro of Raven.

But Paul turned his head, and jumped. “Ceniro of Santaruz! What are you doing here?”

“Well, I moved to Sacae to be with my fiancée,” Ceniro said. “But I’ve joined – actually, I’m the leader of a mercenary group now. How are you?”

“Paul, who are you talking to?” Roger demanded. “Who are you?”

Ceniro smiled a little. Roger’s forgetfulness didn’t really surprise him – Roger had paid him little attention in their assault on Eshan’s attempted coup. “I’m Ceniro, a tactician. We met a couple years ago, around the time your father died.”

“My father…” Roger thought. “The scrawny tactician!”

“Yes, that’s me,” Ceniro said. “What brings you to Sacae, Lord Roger?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m actually on my way to Ilia to see my mother’s family,” Roger said. “I need a new escort… the old one proved untrustworthy.”

“You didn’t have all you need in the Deis forces?” Ceniro asked.

“Politics,” Roger snorted. “I need them at home to deter Lady Olga from making a move on my territory while I’m away. I have only taken my two closest knights.”

“I understand,” Ceniro said. “How large of an escort would you need?”

“Ceniro,” Rath said warningly.

“How many Sacaeans are in it?” Roger said scornfully.

Ceniro crossed his arms, allowing himself to get slightly angry. “You’re in Sacae. You are not allowed to badmouth the local people, young man.”

Phil and Paul stared in surprise at his forthrightness, and Roger’s face reddened. “Now see here-”

“The Sacaean people are proud and honourable, and great warriors,” Ceniro said. “I don’t know what you think of them, but I’ve worked with several and they’ve all been very helpful and absolutely trustworthy.” He smiled, letting go of the anger. “Why don’t you take us on and see?”

“You’re not even that much older than me!” Roger burst out. “What gives you the right to call me ‘young man’!? Should I call you ‘old man’?”

“As long as you stop insulting Sacaeans, I’ll live with it,” Ceniro said. “What do you say?”

“…” Roger thought, looking up at the cloudy sky, then back at his train of assistants. “You have a deal. How many people are in your group?”

“Ten,” Ceniro said. “Including me. There is also an additional complication.” He tensed, ready to dodge if Roger should take it badly.

Roger frowned. “What, is it your fiancée?”

“No, not that… You know what happened to Lord Pent recently, don’t you?”

“He was exiled for daring to stick it to King Desmond, wasn’t he?”

“Something like that… A false accusation of attempting to murder King Desmond’s son, Zephiel.”

“Yes, yes… Pent insisted it was a forgery… I don’t really care, Desmond is an idiot. Pent had guts. I liked his performance. What does this have to do with your mercenary group?”

“Then would you mind terribly if he was in your escort?”

Roger grinned. “Why didn’t you say that first off? I’ll take any number of Sacaeans if Pent is there. It’s not everyone who can stand up to a king.”

“Right,” Ceniro said, choosing to ignore the comment about Sacaeans. “Rath, go and tell the others.”

“Understood,” Rath said, saluting, and jogging back to the inn, somewhat behind them now.

“I guess you’ll be wanting to know where we’re going, eh?” Phil said. “If you can take us to the borders of Ilia, at least, we’ll be able to get the rest of the way ourselves. Our ultimate destination is Edessa, the capital, but the roads will be safer once we get to the border.”

“Although… it’s winter,” Ceniro said. “Or getting on to it. We may as well come the whole way.”

“Who’s in your group?” Paul wanted to know.

“Besides me and Lord Pent, there’s also Lady Louise, though she’s pregnant, and my fiancée Lyn, and Rath, and Pent’s student Erk, and his soldiers George, Caddie, Yens, Andy, and Frank. We have a diverse enough array of skills that I feel confident in saying we can take on just about anything, especially bandits, if that’s your worst worry.”

“Hurry up,” Roger said, pulling out in front of them. “We’re not camping here in this tiny pit. Sir Ceniro, get your group together and meet us on the edge of town in half an hour at the latest.”

“See you, then,” Ceniro said, and turned to do just that.

The journey certainly wasn’t dull, Ceniro reflected a few days later, as they neared the north of Sacae. Roger hadn’t cared one whit that Pent was in exile, and assured Pent that he wouldn’t tell anyone that he’d been in his mercenary guard, not even his relatives in Ilia.

“Why would you not care?” Pent asked at last. “Surely you blame me for the death of your father…”

Roger was silent a long time. “I haven’t forgotten, Lord Pent. And for a long time I was angry, yes. When Eshan staged his coup, right after my father’s death, I just wanted to hurt something, anything. That’s why… I couldn’t attack you, you were too strong, but you were fighting other people. With your group, fighting people, I could… feel a bit more in control.” He glanced at his knights. “Phil and Paul would have ensured I didn’t kill you.”

“I think I understand,” Pent said. “And now?”

“Now… it’s been almost two years. I’ve had a lot of time to think. I’m… not politically ambitious. To be the best swordfighter, that is my idea of a worthy goal. And so… although it pains me deeply to say it, my father was in the wrong to attack you.” He gave a little sarcastic smile. “If he was attacking you to prove his martial skill, I would agree with him. In fact, sometime after you are reinstated, we should duel sometime.”

“All right,” Pent said. “If that is what you wish.”

“You are a very wise young man,” Louise said. “And I thank you for not hating my husband.”

“I’m still angry, but I know it would be more trouble than it’s worth,” Roger said. “Being Duke of Deis has taught me that much.” He pointed at Pent. “Revenge is for losers, but I still reserve the right to both hate and admire you.”

“Both?” Pent said, confused.

Roger gave him a tight little grin. “Not everyone can sass King Desmond to his face. I liked that.”

Pent laughed. “I’m glad someone enjoyed our performance.”

“Ceniro,” Rath whispered. “I think we’re headed into an ambush.” Ceniro had sent Rath and Lyn ahead as mounted scouts.

“Understood,” Ceniro said, pulling out the farseer.

“Trouble?” Pent asked mildly.

Ceniro looked around at the servants. “There’s a medium-sized group of raiders ahead. Mounted archers, mostly, which could be tricky to deal with. Andy, Frank, you take the left, Phil, Paul, you form up on the right. Caddie, George, Yens, Louise, Erk, stay close to the servants – we want any and all arrows headed their way blocked and returned. Erk, you’re healer if necessary. Lyn, when they reveal themselves, get their attention and lead them down the right, towards Phil and Paul. Rath, do the same on the left. There will be too many for our cavalry to deal with so take shots when you can.”

“And me?” Pent asked.

“And me!” Roger exclaimed, drawing his sword. It was a very large sword, complemented by the very large shield he brought from his back.

“Hmm… Roger, go with Phil and Paul and fight directly alongside them. I’ll cover any holes in the right forward. Pent, you back up Andy and Frank. Most of all, don’t leave the group, anyone! We’re not seeking total annihilation of the bandits. We only need to drive them off.”

“You’re not putting me on the opposite side to Reglay because I admitted I have conflicted feelings about him, did you?” Roger demanded, peering down at Ceniro.

“No, I did it because I assume you already fight well alongside your own knights,” Ceniro retorted. “I try to take people’s feelings into account, but combat ability is even more important. If I sent you with Andy and Frank, you’d be fighting with total strangers.”

“Fine, fine,” Roger said. “And you forgot to call me ‘Lord Roger’.”

“I apologize,” Ceniro said. “I do that a lot.”

“Lord Roger, Sir Ceniro!” Phil called. “We’re in position!”

“And now they’re waiting on me,” Roger said with a snort. “Right. Watch and learn, Ceniro of Santaruz!”

“I’m watching,” Ceniro said, smiling, and sat back to watch his fighters do their thing.

It certainly was a spectacle, he thought, between the dreary grey sky, and the distant, half-seen mountain foothills, and the bright colours of Deis and the more drab ones of his own people – punctuated with the flash of swords and the flare of thunder and fire. The enemy seemed to have trouble shooting straight, though whether that was the result of the unexpectedness of their counterattack, or because their group was just too good at dodging, Ceniro wasn’t quite sure.

All they really needed was a couple of pegasus knights and maybe a monk, and they’d be set for life, he thought, smiling.

“Ceniro!” yelled Lyn, riding past. “Keep your head down, stupid!”

“I need to be able to see!” he called to her.

“You won’t see anything if you go arrow-catching again!” she said, turning in the saddle to loose an arrow of her own at an attacker.

“Point taken,” Ceniro said reluctantly. “They haven’t sent out their foot soldiers yet anyway…”

He’d spoken too soon – even as they passed through a narrow place in the road, some men on foot with swords and axes jumped out of the scrub onto it.

Ceniro drew his sword. “Right, this is what I kept you all back for.”

“Do you need us?” Andy asked.

“No, keep harrassing the horse archers. We got this.”

“Ceniro,” Pent said. “I think they’ll draw back if we hold on long enough. These aren’t the kind to throw their lives away if they’re losing horribly.”

“Sacaeans are prideful, though,” Ceniro said. “And these are Sacaean bandits…”

“I thought you said all Sacaeans are awesome,” Roger said sarcastically.

“Most Sacaeans are awesome,” Ceniro amended, making eye contact with one large man and preparing to block his attack if necessary. “None of them are worthy of racism.”

“I don’t get it,” Roger said, and grunted as he rode by, cutting down the large man Ceniro had been facing.

“I’ll try and explain again later,” Ceniro said. “Thanks for the assist.”

The bandits were withdrawing, wordlessly breaking off the attack and disappearing into the brown winter prairie scrub. The company regrouped.

“That wasn’t bad,” Erk said, rubbing his hands together. “My casting hand’s half-frozen, though.”

Caddie hefted his axe onto his shoulder and grinned at him. “Should have taken a more active line of martial arts, Master Erk.”

“Oh, I can warm myself up if need be,” Erk said. “Would you like me to demonstrate?”

“No need for that,” Yens said. “But perhaps at tonight’s camp, you could give us an extra big fire, ja?”

“I can do that,” Erk said. “Are you all right, Lady Louise?”

“I’m fine, Erk,” Louise said, smiling. “No need to worry.”

“Ha!” Roger said, returning with Phil and Paul flanking him. “What did you think of that?”

“You’ve grown much since we last fought together,” Ceniro said to him. “Well done.”

“No need to ‘well done’ me,” Roger said, irritated. “And how about some more ‘my lord’ now that you’re not in the heat of battle?”

“…I apologize, my lord,” Ceniro said. The words felt forced and strange in his mouth.

Roger went on grumbling. “And it’s not like you do much in battle anyway, just stand there yelling at us…”

“Forgive him,” Paul said surreptitiously to Ceniro. “He’s actually in a very good mood. That’s just how he is.”

“Ah, I see,” Ceniro said. “Don’t worry, I’m not offended.”

“Good,” Paul said.

“Are we continuing or what?” Roger asked, trotting ahead of them again. “Good work, mercenaries. Ambush averted! You did what I paid you for. Now let’s make some more distance before we camp for the night.”

“And we’ll set a slightly larger guard tonight,” Ceniro said. “They might be back for us.”

“I’d like to see them do so,” Roger said. “We already showed them we have larger teeth than they’re used to.”

“We’ll see,” Ceniro said.

In Kafti, at the utmost other end of the continent to the southwest, a group of cloaked figures huddled in an old stone tower. Parchment was spread across the table between them, lit by guttering torches.

“So we’re all sure of it?” one of them said.

“We’ve all been sure of it since it happened,” said another. “Elder magic doesn’t lie.”

“Most magic doesn’t,” said another mildly. “But it’s the interpreting of that truth that is the difficult part.”

“I’m sure of it, at least,” said a fourth. “That wave originated in Bern somewhere, and caused ripples in seven different places across the continent.”

“That’s what I thought,” said the first one.

“But what does it mean?” asked the third one, with a female voice. “This could change everything we know about Elder magic if-”

“Don’t get excited,” said the second. “There’s no need to rethink the laws of magic. It’s only a very old spell that no one noticed before, suddenly activated. It’s been here so long we all thought it was part of nature.”

“But what is it? And why those seven places?”

“That’s what you’re going to find out, Rigel,” said the fourth man, and the third figure looked at him, startled.

“Me, sir?”

“You’re young, aren’t you? Eager for adventure?”

“Well… Eager to learn new things.”

“Then go and learn this thing.”

“Yes, sir. Where should I start?”

“There was one in Nabata. Start there. The echoes should still be clear enough to find the general area.”

“I’ll go at once, sir.”

“Why her?” complained the second man.

“Don’t get excited, Vellith. If it turns out to be important, then we shall congregate again. For now, observation and patience are our allies, as they have always been to unravelling the mysteries of the darkness.”


	4. Episode 3: Mercenaries, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used [2chijou](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=62zaMtxLMzU) (up to 4:40) from SnK for my inspiration of Sacaean party music, even though that's not Mongolian >.>

Episode 3: Mercenaries, Part 2

They parted with the young Duke Deis at the gates of Edessa, capital of Ilia, wishing them luck for the return journey. “And don’t forget to call Ceniro’s Elite Company – if we happen to be in the area!” Yens joked, making Ceniro very uncomfortable.

“It’s been a pleasure working with you again,” Phil said. “Good luck with your path!”

“Thank you,” Ceniro said, and Pent said, and they turned back, heading south towards Sacae again.

The roads were growing treacherous, but so far the weather had been almost unreasonably good. Their luck held on the way back, and although it snowed, the roads were not made impassable. Ceniro kept his eyes out for pegasus knights, but only saw a few at the border, and far off.

“I think we should celebrate our first successful job,” Lyn said, once they were back on the plains, now lightly dusted with snow of their own. “Perhaps we can get supplies for a feast from one of the local tribes.”

“I like this idea,” said Andy. “I like it a lot. Are there any local tribes? Do they really wander all year round?”

“Of course they do,” Lyn said. “Some of the smaller ones may not, but the majority of them do. They might wander less, but… it’s not like they’re in a town, either.”

“I see,” George said. “You people don’t like towns, do you?”

“They’re too… binding,” Lyn said. “Under a wide open sky like this, it would be a waste to be stuck in one place all the time.”

“I think I understand,” Louise said. “The wind blows freely here, and you go where it blows you.”

Lyn beamed at her. “Exactly!”

Towards the early evening, they saw the twinkle of campfires in the distance.

“Ceniro, you and Rath should come while I go get things,” Lyn said. “Everyone can come, but be respectful; don’t stare, don’t point, and don’t touch anything.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Yens said cheerfully. “Count on us. We’ll be silent as little lambs.”

The whole group approached the village, and after Lyn spoke to the scouts, they were let through, although with the warning that there was not much to buy there at the present time – the tribe needed most of it. Lyn nodded; she understood.

There was one tent that was pointed out as the trader’s tent, and Lyn, Rath, and Ceniro entered it. It was dark, and though warm, rather smoky. Lyn was kneeling in front of the trader, also kneeling, already speaking quickly and using many words that Ceniro didn’t know from the peculiar Sacaean dialect of the Elibean tongue. She paid for several things and handed them to her men, when suddenly someone else burst into the tent.

Lyn started, her hand on her sword, and her face only grew darker when the man began yelling at her.

“I think we should continue this discussion outside,” she said in cold, clear, plain Elibean, and stood, leading Ceniro and Rath out of the tent.

“What’s going on?” Ceniro asked Rath, worried.

“He is… startled to see her here. He recognizes her… how?”

“He is of the Lorca,” Lyn said, still icy. “He is of the Lorca, and he recognizes me not only from my childhood, but from last week.”

“Last week… You don’t mean…” Ceniro began.

“Yes. He was with the raiders we fought off that day.”

The man scowled. “So this is what you do, Lyn? You were Hassar’s daughter, and now you are a common sellsword.” Ceniro wondered if he’d stopped himself from saying worse.

“Well maybe if you had joined me when I attempted to follow my father-”

“You were a little girl. You still are a little girl. Leaders are men, strong men.”

“You are as great a fool as you were three years ago, Isi,” Lyn spat. “Greater, even. You didn’t even give me a _chance_ to try to lead the Lorca. And now look at you! You are a bandit! Have you forgotten it was bandits who destroyed our tribe?”

“I have not forgotten! I am not a bandit. I raid only outsiders. But sometimes the outsiders hire guards from among our people, thinking it will protect them.”

“Enough!” Lyn said. “It doesn’t matter who they are. You attack people to steal their possessions and possibly their lives. That’s not the way of the Lorca.”

“You stole plenty of our lives, you and your little band there!”

“You attacked us! We defended ourselves! The only reason so many of your lives were lost while we lost none is because my fiancé is a great strategist.” She gestured at Ceniro, who was suddenly horribly uncomfortable, especially under the ugly glare the man sent his way.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” the man muttered. “You were a half-breed anyway-” He got no further; Lyn slapped him in the face.

“Don’t speak of my breeding,” she hissed. “I’m not some dog or a horse. I know I went to Lycia to see my mother’s father. He’s the only family I have left. Since the rest of my family was murdered by bandits. Begone from me. I wanted to try again to restore the Lorca, but if the rest are like you, there is no point. The Lorca are truly dead.”

“And what would they be if they did follow you?” the man shouted, holding his face. “A little half-breed girl, marrying yet another dirty Lycian? He dresses Sacaean to please you, but he’s just another imperialist pig like the others! What would your children be? Not Sacaean, let alone Lorca!”

“Get out of here before I kill you!” Lyn shouted back, half-drawing her sword already.

“You always were temperamental, Lyn,” the man began, and Lyn fully drew her sword. He blanched and fled.

The others were staring.

“That was… interesting,” Pent said at last.

Lyn snorted. “Interesting is not half of it. Come, let’s get away from this place. Now that I know bandits come here to trade, I want no part of it.”

They quickly headed out into the darkening night.

“I’m sorry,” Ceniro said to Lyn.

She looked at him quizzically. “For what?”

“It is a fact that I’m not Sacaean…”

“It is also a fact that you are not an imperialist pig, and it is a fact that you are not dirty, and it is most definitely a fact that I love you and I don’t care what fraction of Sacaean blood our children will bear.”

“But if they don’t like me marrying you…”

“What does it matter?”

“It will make it hard for you to be chieftain of the Lorca… I thought it would be all right as long as our kids had green hair, perhaps, but… it doesn’t seem that easy…”

“Don’t be silly,” Lyn said, although now he could tell she was fighting to maintain composure. “I always kind of knew that the Lorca could not be re-established…”

Ceniro stopped her and pulled her into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

She sniffled a little. “Thanks. It is a little hard when someone stomps on your dream.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. It’s not your fault.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Ceniro-!” She looked up at him and laughed a little. “Anyway, what was that about our kids and green hair? You didn’t tell me that before…”

“I… well, when you were telling me about the Lorca, that was my own private thought – that our kids should have green hair. Which would probably be easy, since it’s a dominant trait…”

“You’re silly. You’d love our kids no matter what colour hair they had, right?”

The idea of kids, his kids, his and Lyn’s kids, was still hard for him to wrap his head around. But the answer to that question was easy. “Yes, I would. We’re falling behind. We’d better catch up.”

“I’m all right now. Let’s do that.”

They’d set up camp not far from the Sacaean camp – it was dark and cold, after all, and they didn’t want to go too far – and Lyn cheered up after they’d prepared the food she’d bought.

Surprisingly, it was Rath who came up with the next idea. “If you intend to celebrate, what is a celebration without music?”

Lyn brightened. “You’re absolutely right! And I’ve barely touched my huuchir since we got back! Rath, what do you have with you?”

“I have a shanz. Although it is cold… the tuning will be horrible.”

“Who cares?” Pent said. “Music is music.”

Lyn nodded. “Music is one of the best kinds of spiritual healing.”

The two Sacaeans went to their packs and returned with long, thin stringed instruments that Ceniro had never before identified among all their belongings. It did seem to take them a long time to tune before they were happy with the sound, but then they began to play. The music started slow, meandering, reminding Ceniro of the way the wind whistled.

Suddenly Rath looked around. “Who is that?”

A shadowy figure in Sacaean clothing stepped into the light. “I am Shikoba, from the Hanska tribe across yonder, and… I… wanted to apologize for the way Isi spoke.”

“Is he with your tribe?” Lyn demanded.

“No… he only comes to trade with us. But he has shamed our tribe and all Sacaeans in speaking to you the way he did.”

“I thank you for your apology,” Lyn said, bowing her head.

“Are you celebrating something?” asked Shikoba next.

“The first successful job of our mercenary company!” announced Yens, raising his glass.

“You may join us, if you like,” Lyn said graciously, indicating the leftover food.

“I will go and bring drums,” said the Sacaean. “I thank you for permitting me.”

Shikoba returned a few minutes later, and he was not alone – there were several other Sacaeans, all with various musical instruments, and more food and even alcohol. “We have come to show your company what a real Sacaean celebration is like.”

Lyn almost squealed in glee, with excited looks at Ceniro. Eventually she was persuaded to sing, although she insisted her voice was terrible – but she had had two glasses of wine by that point. Ceniro thought her voice was beautiful when she began to sing.

The music became faster and faster, driving away all thoughts of cold and snow. Lyn got up, putting aside her instrument, and dragged Ceniro to his feet, trying to teach him to dance. Pent and Louise, when they stopped laughing, did the same. Some of the others got up too, dancing alone, or even with each other, despite the shortage of women in their company.

The evening passed by in a blur, and eventually Ceniro stumbled into a tent, slurring something about setting watch.

“No need,” was the last thing he heard, from someone who sounded like Shikoba. “The Hanska tribe will watch over you.”

He had a hangover the next morning, but it was kind of worth it, he thought. That wasn’t something that happened very often. And he didn’t wake up naked next to Lyn, so that was also a plus. More or less. That is, he wouldn’t have minded, but he would like to remember it if that happened, and not have the worry that he had made some kind of mistake.

Shikoba had been right, and even though they had all been too tired to keep watch, nothing was amiss from their campsite.

“The honour of the Sacaean people is a marvelous thing,” Pent said. “To do such a thing for us strangers is humbling.”

“That’s my people,” Lyn said proudly.

They traveled south, heading for the town of Eno to find more work. On the second day, Ceniro was watching the winter-blue sky when he shaded his eyes with his hand, squinting to look closer. He glanced at his farseer and back at the sky.

“What is it?” Lyn asked.

“Something I never expected,” he said.

“But something good – you don’t look worried.”

“It’s better than good,” he said, grinning.

“Are you going to let us in on this secret?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

“Pegasus knights,” said Rath, shading his own eyes.

Lyn turned to glare at Ceniro, who was grinning like a little kid. “Pegasus knights whom we know?”

“Maybe,” he said evasively.

Lyn rolled her eyes. “You’re really acting like an ass today, you know that?”

“I’m just excited. Fiora! Florina! Over here!”

“Huh? Huh?” He heard Florina being confused over the farseer.

“Continue north and about two points east, you should run into us.”

“Ceniro!” Fiora cried. “It’s good to see you!”

“We haven’t seen him yet,” said someone else – Wil, Ceniro thought.

“Wil, is that you?”

“Yep! Me and Kent came along to keep the girls company.”

“But what about Sain? Castle Caelin’s going to be lonely without all of you.”

“I don’t think Sain even noticed we’re gone,” Wil said, and laughed. “We’ll talk about it when we meet up, all right?”

“How did you find us?” Lyn demanded a few minutes later, when they had all met on a snowy knoll.

Fiora shrugged. “Luck, I suppose. We weren’t actually looking for you.”

Lyn deflated a little. “Then what were you doing out here?”

“I’m sorry, Lyn!” Florina chirped. “We were actually going to Ilia – it’s been a while since Fiora checked in with the higher-ups, you know? And I thought, since I’m a full pegasus knight now, I should go with her. I’ve never been for… that reason before.”

“And we couldn’t stay behind, could we?” Wil said, laughing and elbowing Kent.

Kent nodded warmly. “Fiora and I… we can’t be apart anymore. The Knights of Caelin can take care of themselves. Sain can take care of himself. Salir can take care of him even better.”

“And my grandfather?” Lyn asked.

“He is well,” Kent said. “He did say to send his greetings and his love, should we run into you.”

“I’m glad,” Lyn said. “I shall have to visit him in the spring.”

“But what is Lord Pent doing here?” Fiora asked. “Off on another quest, my lord?”

“Something like that,” Pent said. “Ceniro can explain better than I can at this point.”

So Ceniro explained, and introduced the Caelin group to Pent’s soldiers. It took a long time, with Wil and Fiora interrupting so much, but eventually they got it.

“It sounds quite exciting,” Fiora said. “I wonder… Ceniro, would you mind terribly if we joined you?”

“But weren’t you going to Ilia?” Ceniro said.

“It’s not mandatory,” Fiora said. “They’ll already have received my report on the loss of the 5th Wing ages ago. They’ll probably have formed a new 5th Wing already. So I’m not Fiora of the 5th anymore, I’m just Fiora.”

“I would have thought you’d visit your family as well,” Louise said.

Fiora looked away. “I would like to see them, but… a chance meeting like this can’t be passed up. Who knows if we’d meet so easily when we returned?”

“I see,” Ceniro said. “Well… Perhaps we can make it a secondary goal as we travel. I would love to have all of you along, if you’re willing!”

“He was just saying the other day that all he needs is pegasus knights for life to be perfect,” Erk said, and Florina giggled.

“With this we’ll be the best-outfitted mercenary group in Sacae!” George said. “Possibly in Elibe, though I daren’t say for certain.”

“There’s large guilds of mercenaries that would probably be better than us,” Ceniro said.

“But they don’t have you!” Wil cried. “How can they call themselves better without you? Oh, by the way, when Florina and I get married…” Florina turned bright red. “We want to name our first kid after you!”

Now Ceniro turned bright red. “W-what!? Why??”

“You brought us together, that’s why! And you’ve been a great friend as well as a great tactician! I just think we need to do this.”

“I-I-I-I agree,” Florina stuttered, embarrassed out of her mind.

“What if it’s a girl!?” Ceniro exclaimed. Pent was quietly laughing himself into stitches, Lyn was giggling, and even Rath was smiling in amusement. There might have been a ping but he was too distracted to notice it.

“Then we’ll call her Cenira!” Wil said. “Bam! Problem solved!”

The ludicrousness of the situation hit Ceniro and he fell over in hysterical giggles himself.

Wil stared at him in confusion. “Did I break him?”

“I think you did,” Kent said. “Be nice, Ceniro. They’ve been talking about this for a while, so they’re serious.”

“I… I can’t…” Ceniro began. “I can’t talk… I think you’re both crazy. But if it makes you happy, go ahead.”

And an arrow whizzed through the group, striking Frank in the shoulder and bouncing off his armour.

Ceniro whirled, trying to see where it came from. “Florina, Fiora, get up in the air and out of range NOW! Kent, Andy, Frank, Rath, Lyn, perimeter! Caddie, George, get to the south side of the group.” He finally managed to get the farseer out of his belt. “Same group as last time, reinforced with mages and axemen. Not that it will make a difference…”

An hour later, almost all the bandits had fled the field, and almost every one of Ceniro’s fighters was unharmed.

The one who had recognized Lyn recently, Isi, was still there, in the middle of regrouping with several other sword-wielding bandits.

“Do you think it’s safe to go talk to him?” Lyn asked.

“Yeah, probably,” Ceniro said. “Caddie, Yens, go with her for cover. Florina, interfere if they get feisty.”

“I’m on it,” Florina said. She had grown so much from the terrified teenage girl Ceniro had met a couple years ago.

“Isi!” Lyn called. “Is this your idea of revenge or something?”

“It was supposed to be,” Isi said sulkily. “How are you all untouched?? Are you men or demons?”

“We’ve been fighting battles harder than you can imagine,” Lyn said. “Naturally we’ve all grown stronger. In case you still haven’t noticed, I’m not the little girl you remember.”

“You’re not,” Isi said quietly. “But I still can’t accept you as my chief.”

“That’s fine,” Lyn said. “I couldn’t accept you as one of my people.”

“So… now what?” Yens asked. “You’re not going to kill each other, are you?”

“I’ll withdraw,” Isi said. “You might not be a demon, but I think you might be possessed by one, and your allies are as well.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Lyn said tartly. “Go on before my boyfriend decides it would be better to eliminate you so you don’t try to ambush us a third time.”

“We won’t,” Isi said grudgingly. “You have my word.”

“Thank you,” Lyn said, and watched them go.

Fiora and Florina returned and landed next to Ceniro, who’d taken a central vantage point and hadn’t even needed to draw his sword this time. He smiled at them. “It’s really good to have you guys back.”

“It’s good to be back,” Fiora said. “And I’d like to reiterate my intention to join your group.”

“Me too!” Florina said. “And Wil!”

“And me,” Kent said, riding up. “It will be… a different life than what I’m used to, certainly. But it will be an educational one, and I think with companions such as these, it will be a good one.” He and Fiora smiled at each other. Wil rolled his eyes.

“We’re happy to have you,” Ceniro said. “We were headed south to Eno for more work.”

“We’re a pretty big group now,” Erk commented. “We could even split up to do more work, possibly.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ceniro said. “I hadn’t really considered it, but it’s a good point. I trust you all to keep yourselves alive without my interference.”

“In that case…” Rath said. “I will be leaving you at Eno.”

“Oh, that’s too bad!” Wil said. “I was looking forward to more riding lessons from you!”

Rath smiled slightly. “Lyn can teach you to shoot from the horse. I have… duties at home with the Kutolah that I cannot neglect for long. I told her I would only be away long enough to show Pent the way to Ceniro, and I have been away for much longer than that.”

“Oh!” Lyn said. “Yes, of course, she’s been waiting all this time. Please give her our best wishes, and we hope you’re very happy together.”

Rath half-bowed. “Thank you, Lyn.”

“You’ve been a tremendous help,” Ceniro said. “Especially to me, trying to learn the culture of this land and its people. We’ll miss you a lot.”

“Though, we do have lots of archers,” George put in, grinning. “I’ll take up your place as I can, though I don’t have your skill.”

“You’re fine,” Louise hastened to assure him.

Rath nodded. “You have no need of me anymore. When we reach Eno, I will head my own way. Do not worry for my safety. I know this land well.”

“I know you’ll be fine,” Ceniro said. “If we can ever repay the kindness you’ve given all of us, just let us know.”

“I will.”

They spent the next five months wandering from place to place, working as much as they could. Bandits on the southern mountain border soon learned to fear the Elite Company, until Yens and Wil joked that they were going to put themselves out of work by being too good.

The darkness and heavy snow of winter made way reluctantly for the rain and mud of early spring. Louise was getting along in her pregnancy, so much so that Ceniro had begun to insist that she stay in whatever town was closest to their route with at least one escort.

They had dared to go to Bulgar, hoping that they could learn fresh news about the world while also risking being spotted and reported to King Desmond. While George and Kent led the main group to find lodging, Ceniro, Lyn, and Pent went to the main squares of the place.

Of course Pent would be drawn to groups of magic users, and without telling Ceniro, he meandered over to a collection of shaman near the city’s library. Ceniro could find him if he needed him. He could even call him if he needed him. This was win-win for both of them, Pent felt – he got the chance to eavesdrop on the magical community, and Ceniro and Lyn would get a chance to be alone together for the first real time since Pent and his group had joined them months before. He’d heard them saying something about Bulgar reminding them of old times, when they had first met, and first met Kent and Sain, and wished them luck.

Ten minutes later, he heard Ceniro. “Pent, you all right?” It was later even than he’d been expecting. The tactician had definitely been enthralled by his princess.

“I’m fine,” Pent said. “Enjoy yourselves. I’m going to listen to boring magic things.”

“Enjoy yourself too,” Ceniro said. “Call if you need anything.”

“I’ll let you know if I’m in trouble,” Pent said, with a voice that made it clear he wasn’t expecting any, and that if he got into any, he could probably get himself out again.

Ceniro chuckled, and then he heard no more from them.

Pent sidled up to the group; they didn’t seem to notice him, tall as he was, and he assumed that they were mostly strangers to each other as well.

Why would a group of strange shaman gather in public like this?

“I felt it too,” said one of them. “But I felt it coming from the southeast.”

“Were you north of me?” asked the shaman he was talking to.

“I was near Nittany,” said the first.

“Then, yes.”

“But did you feel it the same day?” asked a third. There followed much bickering, but it seemed that all the shaman had felt… something… disturb the forces of magic, on a particular day in late summer.

It was a day that Pent remembered well.

“Sorry, I’m from out of country,” he said amiably to one of them. “What exactly did you feel?”

“A ripple,” said one immediately.

“I wouldn’t say a ripple,” said another, and began theorizing exactly how dark magic knit into the physical world that the sensation detected had the semblance of a ripple without actually being a ripple.

“I’d say it was more of a wave that caused a ripple in a particular and as yet unknown location,” said another one, firmly. “Who are you, anyway?”

“I’m a mage, not a shaman, so I didn’t feel it,” Pent said. “I have a decided professional interest in magical phenomena, however, and I would be interested in investigating this… wave.”

“The wave came from the south, southwest somewhere,” said one. “Possibly all the way from Bern. I’m more interested in that, myself.”

“Good luck to you,” Pent said cheerfully. “And be careful.”

“Why? Do you know something?”

“Bern is full of dangers,” Pent said, shrugging. He didn’t want to give away his guess, but if he was right, any shaman who tried to find the source of the wave would be walking straight towards the Bern Royal Army at the Shrine of Seals. “I’d love to stay and discuss this further, but I have an appointment with my boss shortly.” How it amused him to say that.

“Hang on, who are you? You still didn’t give us a name.”

Pent blinked and almost stumbled on the fake name he and Louise had come up with. “Rowan. My name’s Rowan. I’m with Ceniro’s Elite Company if you have need of mercenary support.”

“Those guys? I heard they fight like they’re possessed by demons. They’re incredibly good.”

“Thank you,” Pent said, bowing. “But like I said, I have to meet with Ceniro. Good day, and good luck with your investigation. I’ll come back later to help if I have time.”

Instead, he headed directly for the rest of the group, already refining the request he wanted to make of Ceniro’s leadership.


	5. Episode 4: Dragon's Breath

Episode 4: Dragon’s Breath

“Nabata?” Ceniro asked, tilting his head in confusion as he stared at Pent. “Why Nabata?”

“That’s where I studied with Athos,” Pent said, as if it were obvious. “I… I have a hunch.”

“Nabata’s a really long way,” Ceniro said. “It’s spring, so the journey’s much more feasible than a couple months ago, but… with Louise so far along… I don’t know…”

“I will of course bow to her wishes and yours,” Pent said. “But I feel… it’s very important that I go study anything Athos left behind, particularly about the Legendary Weapons.”

“Oh. I see. Except I don’t. Is something wrong with them?”

“I think unforeseen circumstances are going to cause problems relating to them,” Pent said cautiously. “As in, I don’t know if something is wrong yet. But I want to know more about them.”

“That’s fair,” Ceniro said. “Now go talk to your wife.”

Pent laughed and did so.

“Well…” Louise said from within her armchair. “I have no objection to going…”

“But?” Pent asked, sitting across from her and holding her hands.

“I have no real wish to go, either…” She looked down. “I know it’s selfish, but… it’s still a few weeks before the baby is due, and even the short distances we travel now are… difficult…”

“I know,” Pent said. “And I’m sorry.”

“You should not apologize, Lord Pent. I insist on coming along, and while I can’t fight right now, I have no wish to be a burden, either.”

“You are no burden,” he assured her. “I, personally, am happy that I get to watch over you directly. If you were away, I would only worry over you. And Ceniro doesn’t need that.”

“And yet he doesn’t leave either of us behind.” Louise gave a little sigh and a smile. “He is almost as patient as you, Lord Pent.”

“I try,” he said. “So we should not go to Nabata yet.”

“Well, but… You really ought to go and learn whatever there is for you to learn. If you think it necessary, then of course it’s necessary. But like we were just saying… we shouldn’t be apart, either… If I was selfish and stayed here and made you go, you would only spend your time worrying – and then you wouldn’t be around for the birth of our child!”

“So I won’t go yet,” he said. “I definitely can’t miss meeting our child! And finding out if it’s a boy or a girl…” He grinned at her in giddy excitement.

“Klein, if it’s a boy, and Clarine, if it’s a girl,” Louise bubbled, meeting his excitement. “Oh, but… you really should go if it has to do with those Legendary Weapons… There might be some danger that you can prevent if only you know the right things…”

“Louise, please don’t worry about it. I’m going to stay here with you. This is more important.”

“No… no, it’s not…”

“Louise…”

“Hnnn… I need a while to think about this.”

“There’s nothing to think about. It’s been decided.”

“No, it hasn’t!” she exclaimed, almost angrily. “Lord Pent…!” She caught herself and calmed down. “Lord Pent… I truly think you should go. I just need to sort things out with myself. Please wait for a bit.”

“As you like, Louise,” Pent said. “But don’t strain yourself, truly.”

She nodded absentmindedly and went back to thinking, staring out the window.

Lyn came up about half an hour later, bringing tea. “I heard you were making a big decision.”

“I am,” Louise said, smiling. “Thank you for tea.”

“Pent would have me believe that the decision’s already been made, but I know you better than that,” Lyn said with a wink. “He’s all ready to throw in the towel for you, but you wouldn’t make such a big decision so quickly, would you?”

“I would not,” Louise said firmly. “And I’ve almost come to a conclusion.”

“Which way are you leaning?” Lyn asked.

“I think we should go to Nabata,” Louise said. “I can ride side-saddle, as I’ve had to these last few months. We might not go quickly, but it’s better than not going at all until later.”

“I see,” Lyn said, a little down-cast. “I’d hoped the baby could be born here in the clear air of Sacae, but you’re correct.”

“Oh, Lyn…” Louise leaned forward as she could, the wise glow of motherhood about her. “You will have babies of your own someday! You can have all the Sacaean babies. But it doesn’t matter to me where my baby is born as long as its father is there.”

Lyn laughed. “I’m sure that when I have a baby, I will say the same thing.”

“Besides… it’s been so cold this winter. Nabata will be much warmer. I feel it’s time for a change…”

“Well, the plains do get hot in the summer,” Lyn said. “But you’re right about Nabata. I’m sure many of the others will cheer right up with a little heat.”

“Then I have made my decision,” Louise said. “We shall go to Nabata, and Lord Pent shall learn things from Athos’s writings. We should set out immediately. I will be as little burden as I can be, but I fear I must go slowly as we journey west…”

“I don’t think anyone will mind,” Lyn said. “Of course, there’s more chance of being attacked in the corridor south of the Sacae-Bern mountains, but they might have heard of us by now. And if not…” She shrugged. “We shall make short work of them.”

“We shall indeed,” Louise said, smiling. “I only wish I could still shoot. But it’s so uncomfortable right now…”

“Wil and George and I have it covered,” Lyn said. “We have plenty of archers. Shall I go tell the others?”

“Yes… Well, I should come and tell them. It’s my decision, after all. And it’s also my decision that we should go as soon as possible.”

“Right. Here we go!” Lyn helped up the other woman, and they headed downstairs.

So under Louise’s insistence, they packed up and headed west two days later, heading as directly as they could to the desert land. They didn’t even stop at Ostia to greet Hector along the way. They weren’t attacked much, despite Lyn’s concern about the Bern mountains, and the weather was definitely getting warmer the further southwest they got.

They had just reached the outer scrub of the Nabata Desert when Louise felt her dress grow wet. “Oh… Oh!”

“Louise?” asked Pent, never more attentive than he had been the last few weeks.

“I… The baby’s coming,” she gasped, and reached frantically for his hands, helping her down from the horse.

“Now?” Pent went slightly pale; they were far from their destination, a small village on the edge of the desert.

“It’s fine,” Lyn said. “Remember, I’ve done this before.”

“I’ll help too,” Fiora said.

“And I,” said Yens. “With six little ones at home, I should hope I know a thing or two.”

“All right,” Ceniro said. “Let’s set up camp here. Andy, Frank, get a tent for Louise. Kent, Florina, you’re on patrol. George, Caddie, Wil, Erk, we’ll set up the rest of the camp and stay out of the way.”

And then the farseer pinged.

Ceniro huffed. “Why now?” he complained at the innocent crystal screen. But it was all too clear; bandits were approaching from the desert dunes. “Andy, Frank, keep setting up that tent. Fiora, I’m sorry, but I need you out here. I’d like to keep the commotion away from our camp and that means hitting them in the desert, before they reach us.”

“So… I should…” Kent said. His horse would not do well in the loose sand.

“Fight on foot. You’re next to George. Lyn, Pent, don’t worry about anything. We’ll be right back.”

“This is certainly exciting,” Pent said, his voice strained.

“Don’t worry about anything,” Ceniro said again, and then shut the group in the tent out of the farseer’s communications so they wouldn’t hear him yelling orders at the others.

“They’re coming to pincer our camp,” Ceniro said. “So I want everyone on the south flank to the left. Erk, you’re in front. Florina, Fiora, loop around and harrass them from behind. Andy, Frank, once you’re done with that tent get on the north side and keep that group occupied. Once we’ve cleared away the south pincer we’ll join you.”

The bandits were tougher than they’d been facing on the plains of Sacae or the foothills of Bern. They were built more for the unforgiving heat and sun of the desert, and with more brutal weapons.

Surprisingly, once he got over the anxiety that came with the fact that he was defending a child’s birth, the battle wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be. That didn’t mean it was easy, though… with two of his best fighters unavailable, he was severely lacking in his usual firepower.

But that really only meant it was Erk’s time to shine. And Ceniro let him. The young mage’s powers and agility meant he could move lightly over the sand, more lightly than the fighters who faced him, and he could duck away from them when they came too close, and most importantly, he could unleash Thunder on them with no holding back.

Ceniro glanced down at the farseer in the middle of Erk’s display and froze. Four red markers were moving around to the north-east, coming to flank their camp further than he had anticipated. He began to run in that direction. “Pent… sorry to bother you, but they did an extra little flanking manoeuvre… If you can assist me for two seconds… Fiora! Florina! Need you here ASAP.”

“Where?” Pent demanded, sounding and looking frazzled and angry.

Ceniro pointed, and Pent cast, a magic circle flickering in the air in front of him before sending a massive blast of Elfire at the bandits; three of them were caught in the blast and went flying; the fourth was skewered by Florina as he reacted to the fire.

“That’s all,” Ceniro said. “How is it?”

“She’s fine,” Pent said, though there was a tightness around his eyes. “Just defend us.”

“I’m on it,” Ceniro said, and Pent disappeared back into the tent, just as Louise moaned in pain.

And as he turned back to the rest of the battlefield, Erk and George had just finished up with the south flank. Andy and Frank were being hard pressed on the north side, outnumbered and nearly surrounded, but still surviving back-to-back, and keeping the bandits distracted from the tent, which was all Ceniro needed. Ceniro whistled and gestured, and the rest of the company fell on them from the back and side.

“Geez,” Andy wheezed when they regrouped, “I’d almost thought you’d forgotten about us there.”

“I knew you could handle it,” Ceniro said mildly. “You did very well. Though I think the MVP award goes to Erk today.”

Erk snorted, healing a cut on Frank’s hand. “Only because Lord Pent wasn’t fighting.”

“We couldn’t have done it without you!” Wil said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Whether Lord Pent was there or not, you were magnificent out there!”

“I agree with them,” Kent said. “You should be proud of your magical ability, Erk.”

Erk began to blush. “Well… if you say so…”

“Let’s see… I know everyone will want to meet the baby right away, but… Kent, Florina, you’re on watch like before. Everyone else… let’s get back to setting up camp. Fiora, if they still need you…”

There was the shrill cry of a baby from the tent, and excited adult noises.

“I don’t think they need me,” Fiora said, smiling. “Let’s give them some time. I’m sure they will be happy to show us when they’re ready.”

The rest of the tents had been set up, and Ceniro was just starting a campfire, when Lyn pushed open the door-flap of the tent she’d been in. “You can come meet him now, if you like.”

“It’s a boy?” Fiora cried.

“It is,” said Pent, as they all carefully squeezed into the tent. “Everyone, meet Klein Reglay.”

Louise was holding a healthy-looking baby, cooing into the soft blonde fuzz on top of his head. She looked tired, but also thrilled to pieces, and Pent looked like he was going to start literally glowing from happiness as he supported his wife with an arm around her.

“Hello, Klein,” Ceniro said, and Klein turned enormous, serious blue eyes on him, sucking his thumb.

They journeyed to their destination village the next day and stayed there a few days, waiting for Louise to recover her strength. When Pent remembered that the others existed, he spent time with Ceniro and maps of the local area, trying to remember exactly where Athos’s oasis was.

He ran a hand through his long silver hair for the umpteenth time; it was sticking in every direction by now. Ceniro wondered how much sleep he was getting, despite the fact that everyone in the group had volunteered to help with the baby. “It would be much easier if we could get in contact with Hawkeye and just ask him to lead us there. But…”

“How did you find him the first time?” Ceniro asked.

Pent laughed, embarrassed. “A few years before I met you, I was out this way because I’d heard there were magical treasures in the desert… I was severely under-equipped, even for a mage, and I passed out… Hawkeye found me and brought me to Athos, who saw potential in my power, even if I had been rather stupid going out into the desert the way I did. He taught me an incredible amount… And that’s how when I returned, I became the Mage General at the age of twenty-seven.”

“And every time you came back, Hawkeye was waiting for you?”

“I usually came at Athos’s invitation, so yes. But Athos isn’t there anymore, so Hawkeye will undoubtedly be in Arcadia, or wherever he lives… So we have to find the oasis by ourselves this time.”

“Can’t you… detect its aura, or something?” Ceniro asked stupidly.

Pent laughed. “If only I could… Its aura isn’t that strong. It’s outside of the barrier of Arcadia, certainly… I never even knew that Arcadia existed, and I certainly can’t sense the barrier. Undoubtedly it is designed that way.”

“So… where should we start?”

“We should start in this area,” Pent said, tapping the map. “Having two pegasus knights along will help a lot, certainly.”

“I’m very lucky,” Ceniro agreed. “All right. You get some rest. I’ll keep planning.”

“Don’t forget to rest, yourself,” Pent said, though Ceniro could have told him that Pent looked much worse than Ceniro did.

They set out into the desert the next day in the coolness of the dawn, and having pegasus knights in the group was the best thing that could have happened for them. They camped at midday, and traveled in the afternoon into the evening, and camped again when it was quite dark and the only light came from the stars.

It was late the next day when Florina spotted what they were looking for. “Um… I think it’s over there, due west from here… A low white building, just like I remember, and green.”

“Good work, Florina,” Ceniro said. “I don’t see any people around,” he said as they came closer and the farseer was able to see it better. “That’s probably good.”

“Why would there be people around?” Wil asked.

“Bandits will move into any structure they can find,” Frank said. “Even old ones, even beautiful ones. Is this one beautiful? I’d think it would be, with Lord Athos of the Eight Legends living there, right?”

“I recall it was beautiful,” Louise said. “It was cool and refreshing, with halls of carven stone. There was an abundance of water in the midst of this dryness.”

“Sounds good,” said Andy, laughing. “We’ll need it.”

They came to the entrance and went in; the knights stayed outside to tend to the horses and pegasi. Pent headed straight for the library, and Ceniro and Lyn and George began to figure out the way of the place to put their things and prepare food.

They were there for many days. Sometimes Ceniro would drop in on Pent, and tease him about getting sidetracked with all the other amazing research he was finding. Pent would laugh self-deprecatingly, and turn to look at where Louise and Klein rested in a corner. Klein was a fairly quiet baby, they were learning, and he was mostly interested in his mother’s long golden hair that was within convenient grabbing reach.

Ceniro also got to spend more time with Lyn, now that they weren’t moving about and now that they lived in such a large place. She liked to climb on the roof and gaze at the stars at night, while he preferred sitting by the haven’s water and watching the sun-reflected ripples on the walls.

And of course she never let up on his sword training. Every day, they’d go down to the wide open area in the front of the main hall and practice. First, half an hour of warm-up – though Ceniro thought he hardly needed it, here. Then, two hours of drills, sometimes three. Then an hour of sparring, although there were breaks all the way through – training for three or four hours nonstop was foolishness. Sometimes she asked one of the other swordsmen to spar with him, for variety and so he didn’t get used to only fighting with her. Sometimes she asked Caddie to bring his axe, and sometimes she asked Kent to bring his lance.

Even though he’d been learning ever since he went to Sacae with Lyn, about eight months, he still felt unsure of himself, and certainly not like he could take on archers or cavalry or wyverns like he had occasionally asked his fighters to do in the past. “Now that I know more than nothing, this seems even harder than before.”

“That’s the way it goes,” Lyn said, blocking his attacks effortlessly and pushing him back with a mere flick of her wrist. It might have been discouraging, except he loved to watch her move, and even when she was holding back, her movements were full of grace and power. “You haven’t been fighting for fifteen years, though.”

Ceniro paused to wipe his forehead and barely blocked her next move. “When did you start again?”

“I was five when my father gave me my first wooden sword.” She smiled. “I was thrilled, as you might expect. My mother was a little apprehensive at first, but I begged her to let me give it a try. And I was good at it. So I kept at it.”

“And then I met you,” he said, smiling.

“Well, a few things happened in the middle,” Lyn said.

“A few,” he agreed. “For instance, you’re not five anymore.”

“I should hope not,” she said, and began to giggle. “Wouldn’t it be funny if Nergal was defeated by a five-year-old?”

“We should inform Eliwood and Ninian to get on that. Their kid can pull Durandal around even though it’ll be three times as big as him. I wonder if they’re married yet.”

“Probably. Let’s take a break.” Lyn sheathed her sword; he did the same. They bowed to each other, and he followed her back into the hall, heading towards a quiet, cool corner where they could drink their water and catch their breath.

“Hey, what do you think we should name our kid?” Lyn asked.

“What, are we only having one?” Ceniro teased.

Lyn blushed and giggled. “I don’t know, are we? Our first kid, anyway.”

“Well… I don’t know. I was going to leave it up to you.”

“Oh, come on. I know you have ideas. Who doesn’t?”

“I was thinking…” Ceniro said slowly. “Mark, for a boy, and Rose for a girl.” He glanced at her. “But they’re very Lycian names…”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, I guess, just…”

“Ceniro… I’m going to marry you, and you’re going to marry me. Right?”

“Right.”

“Our marriage will be a blending of our cultures. Just because I love my father’s culture and want to show it all to you doesn’t mean that Lycia gets no say in our future.”

He smiled. “All right. I understand. But I’m still wondering whether I should wear a deel or a shirt next time I visit my family.”

“From what you’ve told me…”

“The deel would drive my mother crazy, and at this point with her, I kind of want to do that… I’m a terrible son.”

“Why do you say that?”

Ceniro lay down on his back with his hands behind his head. “She hates my profession, and takes every opportunity to say so. I’ve told you that before… So I feel kind of rebellious about… her. And I just want to annoy her more until she leaves me alone about it. But that’s not going to happen. And… I’m kind of regretful about that, because I want to be good… I just…”

“Is that why you wander?”

“No… I wander because I like it.” He smiled up at her. “I like you.”

“That’s good, because I love you.”

“I love you too. Come here.” He reached up and tugged her to lie down beside him on the cool stone. The water reflections glinted off the ceiling above them.

“Hey! Ceniro!” they heard distantly. “Has anyone seen Ceniro?”

Ceniro groaned. “Meh…”

“Meh?” Lyn giggled. “Is that all you can say? Obviously Pent’s finally found out something important. Go along with you. I’ll be right here.”

“But I want to stay here,” Ceniro whined, before giving up and getting up. “I’ll see you in a little bit, then.”

“Ceniro! There you are!” Pent beckoned him urgently. “This is bigger even than I thought it was. Come here.”

“What is it?” Ceniro asked anxiously.

“The Legendary Weapons have the power to bend reality itself,” Pent said.

Ceniro blinked. “What?”

“It’s… a difficult conclusion to draw, certainly. But… when the Scouring occurred, humanity was so greatly outmatched by the dragons that they put all their power into these eight weapons. So much power, in fact, that it drew power out of the very existence of… everything.”

“That’s possible?” Ceniro said, still uncomprehending.

“Apparently it was! I wonder what it was like, back then, with even more energy floating around… And not only were these weapons powerful enough to fight dragons then, but the loss of this energy meant that dragons had a difficult time… just living here.”

“That explains what Nils said,” Ceniro said. “He said the air had changed since they left. He was talking about before the Scouring, wasn’t he?”

“I would assume so. So then… these weapons have an incredible power. We saw it first hand, but if all eight were gathered together… I’m not sure the world could stand it anymore. The calamity that followed the Scouring when magic was drawn out of the world was known as the Ending Winter, and Athos and the others feared it was only the precursor to a true apocalypse that would wipe out all life on Elibe.”

“So… we should keep them hidden,” Ceniro said drily.

“Yes, we absolutely should. Durandal should not be left in Eliwood’s hands, nor Armads in Hector’s. They should go back to their hiding places, and…” Pent stopped suddenly.

“Pent?” Ceniro asked. “What is it?”

“When we were in Bulgar…” Pent said slowly. “The reason I came to you was because dark mages had felt the wave of energy that Bramimond cast, breaking the seals on the weapons.”

“Even I felt that,” Ceniro said. “But I was standing right there beside him.”

“I don’t think an ordinary person would have felt it from outside the Shrine,” Pent said. “Shaman would feel it most, but… I think it’s clear that the world is becoming aware of the existence of the weapons again.”

“And that’s bad,” Ceniro assumed.

“Probably. Also, if the seal is gone, then…”

“Hey! Let me go!” they heard ringing down the corridor outside, and Pent snapped his book shut as they both turned to the door.

Kent entered, holding a struggling person in a dark cloak. “Forgive the intrusion, but this person was sneaking around…”

“I was not sneaking around!” said the person defiantly. “I was being chased, and I…”

Pent stood and pulled back the person’s hood, revealing a cute young woman with light blue hair. “You’re a shaman, aren’t you?”

“I am,” said the young woman. “So what?”

“Are you looking for anything in this place?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” she said evasively. “But I tell you the truth – I’m being chased by bandits! Too many for me to fight alone, so I thought: I’ll hide here until they go away. I didn’t know you jerks were here too!”

“Well, we can’t have bandits getting in here,” Ceniro sighed, and brought out the farseer. “Everyone form up, we have more bandits incoming.”

“Who are you guys?” asked the girl suspiciously. “What are you doing here?”

“I think we can ask that question first,” Pent said. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“My name is Rigel,” she said. “As for what I’m doing here… I think we can talk about that later, right?”

“Unfortunately, she’s right,” Ceniro said. “Rigel, will you fight beside us against the bandits?”

“Me? Oh, all right. If it will make them go away quicker.”

“My name is Ceniro and I’m the tactician of this group, so just listen to what I say and you’ll be fine.”

“Can you get your knight to let go of me, then?”

“Kent, you can probably let go of her…”

Kent did so, though not without a doubtful look.

“Let’s go,” Ceniro said. “Louise, are you planning to fight today?”

“I… not yet,” she said, from wherever she was in the compound. “Is that okay?”

“That’s perfectly fine. I just have to decide what to do with…”

“Oh, Ceniro,” Pent said, “take this with you.” He tossed a small metal disc at Ceniro, who caught it.

“What’s this?” he asked, looking at it. It was perfectly flat and carved with runes.

“It’s a Light Rune,” Pent said. “It blocks the enemy. Well, actually, it blocks everyone. It’s like a barrier staff spell in object form. All you have to do is throw it on the ground. I found it while I was poking around…”

“Thanks, this will be useful…”

Rigel stared in wonder at the farseer. “What’s that?”

“It’s my tactical aid. It will let me communicate with you even across a battlefield, and it lets me see most things. So… Pent, Kent, let’s get down to the main hall.” He frowned at the farseer. “Are you sure these guys are bandits? They’re just marching up to the compound with no strategy whatsoever.”

Rigel turned a little paler. “Well… um… they probably don’t know you’re here either. Also… um… yeah, they’re actually slavers.”

“Right.” Ceniro wondered if he should tell Lyn that now or later. It didn’t matter, he decided, she hated both with an intense burning passion. “Everyone, they don’t know we’re here; they’re after one particular person. So here’s what we’ll do…”

“I don’t like this,” Rigel said, standing alone in the middle of the hall.

“Trust me,” Ceniro said. “We’re all right here.”

“But… you can talk across the battlefield. Who’s to say you didn’t ditch me here to slow them down for you?”

“I didn’t,” Ceniro said. “But you can’t look, you’ll give us away.”

“My arms hurt,” Wil complained.

“Deal with it,” Lyn said. “You’re the only other one who could get up here with me. There’s no room for anyone larger.”

“They’re going to scatter,” Ceniro said. “Andy, Frank, Kent, you’re ready?”

“Ready and waiting,” Andy said, and Ceniro heard the confident clank of weaponry. Frank shushed him.

“George?”

“No one will get close to Lady Louise and little Lord Klein,” George said.

“I really don’t like this,” Rigel moaned, looking like she was going to bolt.

Ceniro sighed. “All right. I’ll come stand with you.”

He came out of his hiding place to stand next to her. “It’s not inconceivable that I’ve been living like a hermit here without them knowing, after all.” He felt that his sword was still there and turned his attention back to the farseer. “Thirty second warning.”

Silence fell inside and outside the hall.

“I really hope we don’t destroy this place,” Erk muttered.

“That’s why you and your anima magic are outside,” Ceniro said. “I’d rather not ruin this place either.”

“I see them,” Pent said. “Not a care in the world…”

“Ten seconds,” Ceniro said. “Five.”

“Hoy!” one of the bandits was through the door, blinking his eyes to adjust them to the sudden shade. “She’s in here!”

Rigel offered them a rather creepy smile, confident now that she was not alone. “That’s right. Now what are you going to do?”

“Who’re you?” another of them demanded of Ceniro.

“He’s rather pretty, if chubby,” said a big man who was probably the leader. “Take him along too.”

Ceniro checked to make sure that all twenty or so of the slavers were inside, then put the farseer away. “Normally I would give you the chance to leave, but I hear you’re slavers, and we can’t have that…”

“Hear that, lads? He called us slavers!” said the leader. “What a meanie!”

Another began to fake-sob. “What am I going to tell me mammy? I’m a dirty slaver, that I am!”

Ceniro rolled his eyes and threw the Light Rune hard over their heads. It smacked against the wall over the door and fell to the floor. There was a hum, and a blue-white rune-lined barrier sprang up against the door.

“What’s that?” they cried.

“You’re not getting out that way,” Ceniro said. “Sorry about that.”

“I’m not sorry,” Lyn said, appearing on top of a pillar with an arrow on the string of her bow. “I’m more sorry that it’s going to get a little messy in here. Goodbye.”

All hell broke loose. The slavers had no archers, and ran at Ceniro and Rigel, trying to get out of Lyn and Wil’s line of fire. Ceniro grabbed Rigel’s arm and ran for the right exit. In the original plan, he would have been outside and she would have led them away alone into the maze of passages with him guiding her from a vantage point where he could watch the farseer.

Instead, he was leading them to the second hall, where they’d arrive in twos and threes and either get attacked by Caddie and Yens, or, if they were lucky, make it to the inner courtyard where Florina and Fiora waited for them. Or, if they were unlucky, they would make it all the way back to the front courtyard, where they would get blasted by Pent and Erk, and charged by the cavaliers.

When they reached the second hall, Rigel pulled away from him.

“Hey, wait, where are you going?” he called after her. “That’s not in the plan!”

“Your plan is terrible!” she yelled at him. “I’m going to hide now that you’ve got this under control!”

“That’s not the way it works!” he yelled, frustrated. There was a scraping noise behind him, and he drew his katana just in time to block a slaver’s sword strike.

He backed into the main part of the hall. Caddie was there, but Yens was not. “Where’s Yens?”

“He went to go catch her. Lemme help here.”

“Please,” said Ceniro, although he was pleasantly surprised to find that he was holding his own against his opponent. But there were more coming in. “Yens, get back here! I’ll find her; you fight them.”

More of them were coming, and they began to follow him. Ceniro hissed in frustration and sheathed his sword, grabbing the farseer. Yens passed him on his way, charging to Caddie’s side. “Rigel. What’s your status?”

“Alive,” snapped the girl. “I seriously don’t want to be here. I’ve never been in a battle before, are you crazy?”

“Rigel! Can you use dark magic or not!?”

“Yes, but what’s the point? I-” There was a muffled squeak.

“Rigel!” There were three red figures all closing on her blue one on the farseer. Ceniro put it away to run even faster. “Fiora, you have the courtyard! Florina, come to my position – I’m-”

“I see you,” Florina said, and a moment later a white blur swooshed past him. “What do you need?”

“Rigel’s in trouble. We need to get to her…”

There was the sounds of explosions and screaming and cavalry from across the building, so some of the slavers had made it to the front courtyard. Florina reached down for Ceniro and he climbed up behind her, trying to be careful of her, even though she was less shy of him than she was of most men. “All right, head to the corner between those two buildings…”

He had to clutch at the saddle as Florina’s pegasus leapt forward.

“Rigel, hold on, we’re coming…”

They came to the corner, and Florina’s pegasus came to a landing, rearing back in surprise.

Ceniro stared too – there was a floating orb of dark magic, and tendrils reached out of it to snake around the men threatening Rigel. They screamed as they were pulled in inexorably. Rigel’s face was calm and cold, neither smiling nor frowning, which was perhaps creepier than if she had done either.

She certainly wasn’t anything like Canas.

“Okay,” Ceniro said, when he picked his jaw up again. “You could have told me about that.”

Rigel came out of her casting trance and huffed. “But then you would have made me do even more scary stuff. I didn’t want to even see these guys, let alone kill them.”

“Florina, you’d better go back to your sister and make sure she’s not overwhelmed over there. Although I doubt she is… she’s better than these guys by a long shot.”

“You’re really not worried for any of your people?” Rigel asked.

Ceniro looked around and saw a screaming slaver being chased by Lyn. He shrugged. “They’re all excellent fighters, some of the best in Elibe. I just put them where they need to be to do the most damage and support each other.” He looked at her, and she looked back at him.

“Don’t look at me like that, I get it. I’m just… not a fighter.”

“You’re a good one,” Ceniro said mildly. “What are you, then?”

“A scholar. I’ve only written two theses, but I’m really hoping this journey will give me my third thesis.”

“I think you’ll like Pent, then,” Ceniro said, growing more cheerful now that the stress of battle was over.

Rigel stopped where she was. “You mean… that was Lord Pent? The Mage General of Etruria??”

“Yes, it was.” Ceniro looked back at her. “Come on, he’s not scary.”

She followed him, and the whole group met in the front courtyard. A blonde giant had appeared out of nowhere, listening to Pent.

“Hawkeye?” Ceniro exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“Investigating the disturbance,” Hawkeye said. “Well met, Ceniro. I am glad to see you are in charge again.”

“Er… I suppose I am. Thank you for coming; it’s good to see you. Did you get any of the action?”

“I split a couple heads,” Hawkeye said gravely. “They should not have come here if they wanted to live.”

“I agree entirely. Hello, Hawkeye,” Lyn greeted him, before turning to Ceniro. “Did they seriously call you chubby?” She cleaned her sword and sheathed it. “What awful liars. You’re thin as a stick even though we’ve been eating well.”

“It’s my face,” Ceniro said, deactivating and picking up the Light Rune from the main entrance. “It’s really round even though I’m skinny.”

“It’s not really round, just a little bit round,” Lyn said. “I’m still entertained and offended.”

“Don’t be,” Ceniro said. “I know I can’t match you in the looks department anyway.”

She laughed and patted his shoulder affectionately.

“All right,” Pent said. “Now that things have settled down a little, I’d like to know a bit more about Miss Rigel.”

“I second this motion,” Ceniro said cheerfully. “Let’s go somewhere we can sit – or eat. I’m hungry.”

They followed him into the kitchen and found chairs while he helped Frank prepare food. “So… Rigel. You were chased to this place?”

“Well…” She gazed at him appraisingly. “You seem a decent person.”

“I like to think so,” he answered. “I like to think we all are. We don’t allow any other kind of person in our group.”

She sat up straight in her chair, and her awkward, defiant guise was gone, replaced by something calm and knowing. “My name is Rigel, and I am a shaman from Kafti. I was sent here by the head of my chapter to investigate a peculiar occurrence last year.”

“Ah,” said Pent.

She looked at him. “I think I can safely assume you are doing the same thing, Mage General of Etruria.”

“I’m not exactly the General at the moment,” Pent said. “But I in my turn will assume you know of my reputation for scholarly study.”

“Indeed,” she said. “Perhaps I can help you. There was a wave that originated in Bern and caused ripples in seven locations across Elibe. I am starting of course with the closest one.”

“I see,” Pent said, with a twinkle in his eye. “I think I’ll need to get to know you a bit better before I share any of my research with you, Miss Rigel… but I’ll give you a hint. It’s to do with the Legendary Weapons of the Eight Generals of old.”

Her eyes grew wide for a moment before she regained control of her expression. “I-I guessed that! After all… it’s the right number!”

“Our group will be visiting all of them in turn, and you are welcome to come along with us…”

“Especially since you can fight,” Ceniro said. “We’re rather lacking in variety of magic, if not in power.”

“I am eager to join you,” she said. “I’d like to know what you know. How can I prove myself trustworthy?”

Pent and Ceniro looked at each other. “Well…” Pent began.

“This could be a very secret quest,” Ceniro said. “If word gets out about our goal, it could mean war across Elibe, war as bad as the Scouring almost a thousand years ago.”

“I understand,” she said solemnly. “I won’t publish a word.”

“So you can’t tell anyone, not even the head of your chapter,” Lyn said sharply.

Rigel bowed her head. “He will find out eventually. I’m sure we’re not the only chapter investigating.”

“That is true,” Pent said to Lyn, and turned back to Rigel. “But I think only we have the complete story, and that is something no one can know.”

“Tell me what you can, please,” she said earnestly. “The suspense is unbearable!”

Ceniro laughed. “The Legendary Weapons have been unsealed by Bramimond, and now we have to seal them up again before anyone finds them and uses them to start a war. They have power that distorts reality itself and could cause a final apocalypse.”

Now Rigel looked properly astonished, and even Hawkeye looked concerned. “Whaaaat? But… Lord Bramimond is still alive? Why did he unseal them? How did you find out? Wait… were you there?”

“I think that is part of the tale that should be left untold,” Pent said. “You’d only think us mad, anyway.”

Rigel stood. “If what you say is true, then I must definitely join you. I don’t want wars to happen, and there are so few of you… Even though you’re powerful, you must need all the help you can get!”

“We told you because you were joining,” Lyn said impatiently. “What I would like to know is… if your people sensed this wave, and Pent met some people who sensed this wave… Does that mean that all shaman sensed it?”

“Most likely,” Rigel said. “It wasn’t strong, and the ripples even less strong. It’s taken us the better part of eight months to piece together that something happened in the first place. And my chapter only sent me.” She frowned. “I guess that’s odd. Why would they only send me?”

“I couldn’t say,” Pent said. “But you are welcome here. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to talk to Hawkeye before he leaves.”

Hawkeye nodded and followed Pent out to the main hall, while the others stayed for dinner.

“Hawkeye!” Pent greeted the giant. “Good to see you. How is everything?”

“It was fine,” Hawkeye said. “But if you’re here… is everything fine on your end? It sounds like it is not.”

“It’s… a little less than fine,” Pent admitted.

Hawkeye nodded. “So you wish to hide the weapons again. It will be a long undertaking.”

“Yes,” Pent said. “But not only that. I was thinking about it during the battle, and… they must have magical protection as well. Forblaze is here with Athos. Anyone could just walk in here and take it, even though this place is hidden.”

“That is true,” Hawkeye said. “Let me take it to Arcadia. It is better hidden.”

“Well…” Pent said slowly. “I’m not the equal of either Athos or Bramimond. Athos is dead, and Bramimond will not be found. But I would like to place a magic seal of my own on the weapons. All of them.”

Hawkeye digested this for a while. “I… could take you to Arcadia. The people there will help you develop a seal. But you are right. You are not yet at Lord Athos’s level. Casting a single seal that covers the continent, like the one we saw last year, is beyond you.”

“I know,” Pent said, slightly annoyed.

“But they can help you come up with one that you can cast on each weapon individually. Would that be enough?”

“It will have to be,” Pent said.

“I must take you alone,” Hawkeye said. “Too many others would only bring trouble.”

“I understand,” Pent said. “But while you’re here, would you like to meet my son?”

Hawkeye smiled slightly. “I would be honoured.”

Pent left with Hawkeye and was gone for a week. When he returned, alone, he looked exhausted. But there was a light in his face. “I have it. The means to protect Elibe from ourselves.”


	6. Episode 5: Pherae's Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The big battle at the end of the chapter was written to the following Astebreed tracks: [Return of the Fragments](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ummj_u4wX8s), [The Same Origin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7N9_C6NDeko), [Destruction of the Core](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I3r0gUsmw_I), and [Prism Reflection](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_yR0vCgUokY). Although Prism Reflection is my favourite so I use it for everything really. XD
> 
> Conveniently, I watched [this video about torches](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jiuHr5YVJBI&feature=youtu.be) about the same time I was thinking of Shiroe’s battle in Log Horizon episode 3 and his plan with the lights…

Episode 5: Pherae’s Son

“Our first destination should be Pherae,” Ceniro said over breakfast. “Eliwood probably still has Durandal. It’s further than Ostia, but the Western Isles are further still, and we don’t even know where we’re going in the Western Isles.”

“Wait, what did you say?” Rigel said. “Did you say that Marquess Pherae _owns Durandal_?”

“He’s been borrowing it,” Lyn said proudly. “Roland himself said he was worthy. But our task for it is long done, and Durandal should be returned to its resting place.”

Rigel’s face was overwritten with questions, but she refrained from asking them.

“I think you’re right,” Lyn said to Ceniro. “We can enlist Hector’s help on the way back, maybe.”

“Do you know all the Marquesses?” Rigel asked.

“Not all of them,” Ceniro said, smiling. “Two of them we know well. Lyn would be a third but she has no interest in that. But we know her grandfather. And then we know a few more, but we don’t like them.”

“Who do you speak of?” Pent asked.

“Marquess Araphen is a bigoted ass,” Lyn said.

“And the new Marquess Laus is… better than his father, but still not a good man,” Ceniro said. “So I guess… we know a lot of nobility, especially in Lycia. Well, Pent knows all the Etrurian nobility…”

“I wouldn’t say all of them,” Pent said, laughing. “But we’re off topic. We go to Pherae, get Eliwood’s blessing, head to Ostia, get Hector’s blessing, hide Durandal, hide Armads, and make for the next weapon?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ceniro said.

“I have so many questions,” mumbled Rigel.

So they headed back into Lycia, marching around the vast shallow bay that held Valor. It took about a week; they traveled much faster now that Louise could ride without discomfort, holding Klein in her arms.

Along the way they got to know their new friend a bit better; Rigel was very knowledgeable about magic theory, especially for her age, but a little lacking in the practical application of it. She was astonished when Erk told her that he was Lord Pent’s student and used magic to fight all the time, and reluctantly agreed to let him help her develop her offensive abilities.

Ceniro had only been to Castle Pherae once, and he had never approached it since the last time he had been there, Athos had teleported them there. So his eyes were wide as it came into view, a rather small castle with a single great white tower at the back of the keep. It was separated from the castle town by a river.

On duty were familiar faces. “Lowen! Harken! How are you?”

Lowen jumped, though surely he had seen them coming through his still-overgrown mop of green hair. “Sir Ceniro! Lord Pent! Lady Lyn and Lady Louise!”

“We are well, thank you,” Harken said, less jumpy than Lowen. “This is most unexpected. What brings you to Pherae?”

“It’s… a private matter,” Pent said.

“We wouldn’t mind telling you, but it’s kind of in the open right here,” Lyn said. “Lowen, you look well.”

“I am well,” Lowen said solemnly.

“Then why so serious?” she asked.

“Because my beloved Rebecca’s father has said she may not be married before she is seventeen… and that is not for another year.”

Lyn smiled. “I’m sure you will both persevere.”

“Harken, have you and Isadora…?” began Fiora, leaning in.

“We have been married,” Harken said, smiling, the first real smile Ceniro had ever seen from him, and it seemed to come easily to him now. “We are happy together. But I should go announce you to Marquess Pherae. He will be even more glad to see you, and Lady Ninian will be as well.”

“Are they married?” Lyn asked slyly.

“Of course,” Harken said in a matter-of-fact tone. “In fact, you might be in trouble for not coming to their wedding.”

Ceniro laughed. “We were in Sacae until recently. It would be difficult for anyone to find us.”

“Indeed,” Harken said. “Please wait for a moment.”

He disappeared into the castle, and they talked with Lowen until they heard a hail, and saw Harken, Eliwood, Ninian, and Marcus approaching, all beaming.

It had been Eliwood who called to them, and he was the first to reach them, and he had to shake hands with all of them. “Ceniro, Lyndis! It’s been so long! Lord Pent, good to see you. My sympathies on the outrage of last winter. Lady Louise, you’re looking well! Who is this? He is adorable!”

“This is our son Klein,” Louise said happily, bouncing him a little. Klein burbled. “He’s not yet a month old.”

“Ceniro, we’ve missed you,” Ninian said. “Oh! Florina! I’ve missed you so much!”

Lyn elbowed Ceniro. “Guess we know who’s more important to her…”

Ceniro chuckled. “I already knew that. So Eliwood, I hear we should congratulate you.”

“You really should,” Eliwood said. “And we were thinking, you really should be our first child’s godfather. And Lyndis his godmother!”

“That’s the second couple who’s said that,” Ceniro mumbled to himself. “I hope this isn’t a trend…”

“But what are we doing out here in the courtyard? Let us go inside. Lowen, Harken, you may join us. Marcus, find replacements for the gate guard and join us also.” He turned to lead the way, and Ninian extricated herself from Florina’s embrace and laid a hand on his arm, following primly at his side.

They entered a private parlour where Lady Eleanora and Isadora were sitting; both women rose to greet them. It was a bit crowded, but Eliwood insisted they squeeze in somehow, even the soldiers he didn’t know.

“Mother, look who has come!” Eliwood said. “Ceniro and Lyndis and their friends!”

“Welcome, Ceniro, Lyndis, Pent, Louise,” Eleanora said. “Please make yourselves comfortable. What brings you to Pherae?”

“Besides keeping my promise to Eliwood of last year,” Lyn began.

“We rather need your assistance with something,” Ceniro continued.

“Something that could threaten the world’s existence,” Pent said.

“Again,” Wil finished cheerfully.

Eliwood glanced between all of them. “Are you talking about Durandal?”

“Yes, exactly,” Ceniro said, relieved that Eliwood was catching on quickly. “It’s still here, right?”

“It is,” Eliwood said. “I’d… rather not have it around, but I haven’t had time since my Ascension to go put it where it belongs. Is that what you’ve come to do?”

“Yes,” Lyn said. “Dark mages felt the wave that Bramimond put out to break the seal last year, and they’re already starting to look for the sources.”

“Sources?” Marcus said, frowning.

“This young lady can explain,” Pent said, gesturing to Rigel.

Rigel composed herself and told Eliwood what she knew. “I know it took us almost eight months to figure out anything, but I’m sure we’re not the only ones.”

“But the weapons are not only defended by the – were not only defended by the seal, but by traps and spirits,” Eliwood said. “I should know, that was a gruelling battle.”

“Once the locations are known, expeditions will get more and more elaborate until at last someone takes a weapon,” Lyn said. “We can’t let that happen. So… Pent is going to seal them again.”

“I studied Athos’s notes – and with a little help from some other friends, I have developed a smaller version of Bramimond’s seal. Although mine is an anima seal, not an elder seal, since my element is anima,” Pent said.

“So we’d like to put Durandal back,” Ceniro said. “Can we… have it?”

“Certainly,” Eliwood said. “In fact, I’ll see if I can’t make enough of a space in my work to join you for a time. So that all of us can join you! Mother, you should come too. You haven’t seen Ceniro in action.”

“Eliwood…” Eleanora said, smiling. “I’m too old for such things…”

“Oh, do come,” Ninian said. “I don’t suppose you knew, Ceniro, but Lady Eleanora is a skilled healer, and can even use light magic!”

“We could do with both of those things,” Ceniro said. “But it’s up to your ladyship, of course.”

“If I come, and Eliwood comes… who will mind Pherae?” Eleanora asked, wavering.

Marcus bowed. “Between me and Merlinus, nothing untoward shall happen.”

“Well…”

“Do you require my good word as well, my lady?” Isadora asked. “I assure you that Sir Ceniro is a most excellent tactician. Some would even say he is the best of the best. He will make sure that no one comes to harm, especially if we are only going to Ostia and back. And I know you secretly wish to come.”

“Ah… well, you are all united,” Eleanora said, relenting. “I shall come with you.”

“I am glad,” Eliwood said. “It will be good for us all to get out of the castle for a while.”

“I only pray it does not turn into a continent-spanning dash like it did last time for you,” Ninian said. “I am almost used to living here. It is peaceful, though busier than the shrine where I lived before…”

“Leave the continent-dashing to us,” Lyn said. “We’ve got that in hand. All you need to do is bring Durandal to Ostia with us.”

“I think we can manage that,” Eliwood said. “I’ve been wondering, looking at you… are you a… an actual group?”

Ceniro hid his face in his hands.

“Ceniro’s Elite Company, at your service,” George said, and chuckled. “Most of us are from Lord Pent’s guards, but we’ve all worked with Ceniro before, except for this young lady who only joined recently.”

“Ah, of course,” Eliwood said. “Congratulations, Ceniro!”

“Um. Thank you,” Ceniro said awkwardly.

They spent several hours catching up on everything; Marcus told them all proudly of the spectacle that was Eliwood and Ninian’s wedding, and everyone made faces at Klein, trying to get him to laugh. Eliwood commented on Ceniro’s Sacaean clothing, which he was still wearing even now – it was comfortable, after all.

There was dinner, and Eliwood insisted on making the preparations for the trip himself, so Ceniro only stayed a short while to help before going to bed. Lyn rolled her eyes at the fact that they couldn’t share a room like they normally shared a tent. Although Ceniro knew he was going to miss sleeping next to her, he also knew that he was going to really enjoy a proper bed. And so he did.

They set out in the early morning, heading northwest to Ostia, with Durandal in its sheath and wrapped in so many layers of cloth it looked like a shapeless bundle. They were joined by Eliwood, Ninian, and Eleanora, and also by Harken, Isadora, Lowen, and Rebecca, who had responded eagerly to the summons Eliwood sent her.

They made their way briskly north; the sun was out, and crocuses and daffodils and other early-spring flowers were blooming. Their spirits were as high as another outing on the same road, one that felt ages ago instead of only a year before. Eliwood seemed to make everything better just by being there.

“Ceniro,” said Lyn, “if we’re going through Santaruz, shouldn’t we see your family? It’s been a while since you saw them last, isn’t it?”

Rebecca looked at Ceniro sympathetically; she had been the only one to see Ceniro’s previous meeting with his brother at Santaruz Castle. No one had seen his last meeting with the rest of his family.

“I… don’t know,” Ceniro said. “I’d rather not.”

“But Ceniro,” Louise said earnestly. “You’ve never brought your friends along. Perhaps if they see the company you keep…”

“She’d think I was even more crazy?” Ceniro said. “Either it’s lords and ladies who are too good for me, or it’s frightening-looking people.” He looked at George and Caddie. “Sorry.”

“It’s no problem,” Caddie said, with a half-smile. “I’m used to it, at least.”

“They’re both married,” Yens put in. “We all are, even though we have scary faces, except for these lads here.” He nudged Andy’s foot, and Andy grinned. “But their faces are a lot more pretty.”

“Ha, I’ll trust Ceniro to get me a date as sure as he gets me targets,” Andy said.

Ceniro turned red. “I don’t-”

“What are you talking about?” Lyn said, slipping her hand into his. “You reveled in playing matchmaker last year, admit it!”

“Nooo,” Ceniro said, but the odds were against him, with Lyn, Eliwood and Ninian, Kent and Fiora, Wil and Florina, Lowen and Rebecca, and Harken and Isadora all around him.

But at least they were distracted from suggesting that they visit his home.

“So are you going to wear a deel or a shirt?” Lyn teased, and he realized he had spoken too soon.

“I… should probably wear a shirt,” he said finally. “She might take me more seriously if I look successful in a way that she expects me to look successful.”

“No… what do you want to wear?” she said, and he glanced at her, wary of her reaction.

“I don’t know…”

“Come on, tell me…”

“I… kind of would like to wear a shirt, too.”

For a minute, Lyn looked disappointed. “I understand. I’d be the same way if I had to wear a dress all the time.”

“You didn’t like the dress I gave you last year?” Eleanora asked.

Lyn hastened to cover her misstep. “Oh, well, it was lovely, just not what I’m used to wearing, you know? It was very helpful. It really was necessary to make a complete change from what I normally wear.”

“I’m sorry, Lyn,” Ceniro said, feeling like he’d let her down somehow and wondering why.

“Stop apologizing for everything,” Lyn said huffily. “Anyway, you should go see your family.”

“Right, right,” Ceniro said, recognizing that this was not a time to argue with her. “But not everyone needs to come.”

“Oh, do let us come,” Fiora said. “If your relationship with your mother is so poor, you will need us for moral support?”

“But he will probably be embarrassed,” Florina objected. “I can understand that part of it.”

“We won’t embarrass you,” Andy said. “We’ll back you up!”

“That’s probably part of it,” Eliwood said. “More people telling his mother the same thing won’t necessarily change anything.”

“That is absolutely true,” Ceniro said, sighing.

“So take only your very closest friends?” Eleanora suggested. “She will not be overwhelmed by two or three people, would she?”

“She might if one of them is Marquess Pherae,” Ceniro said. “She’s… of the opinion that nobles and peasants are different creatures and mixing them is a recipe for disaster.”

“I suppose I could stay behind,” Eliwood said, slightly down-cast. “If it would make her more comfortable…”

“Who will you take?” Pent asked. “Not me either, I suppose.”

“We can all be in the village,” Ceniro said. “There’s a little inn there. Just… I think I’ll only take Lyn, Kent, and Fiora.”

“They are honourable and sensible,” Eliwood said, nodding. “A good choice.”

“Thank you,” Kent said.

“Thank me after we leave, if you still feel like it,” Ceniro said grumpily.

Lyn laughed. “It will be fine.”

“I hope.”

As they approached the village of Dunborough, they became alert to the sound of horses ahead of them. In a few minutes, they saw a large group of knights on the road, maybe thirty, coming towards them through the trees. With them were about fifty footsoldiers and a baggage train.

“Ah, those are the colours of Marquess Santaruz, Lord Thornson,” Eliwood said. “I like him; he is a decent man.”

“Good to hear,” Lyn said. “Shall we say hello?”

“If he’s not in a hurry, that is an excellent plan,” Eliwood said. “Hmm, but Lord Pent, Lady Louise…”

“If you fear he will react adversely…” Pent began.

“No, it’s all right,” Eliwood said. “We know that you are innocent, and good people. He can draw his own conclusions. If he even recognizes you.”

The knights had seen them, and halted. “Who goes there?” went out a hail.

Harken stepped forward. “Marquess Pherae, Lady Ninian and Lady Eleanora, and companions.”

The Santaruz knights opened their ranks, and Marquess Santaruz rode towards them. “Ah, Lord Eliwood, well met. What brings you through Santaruz?”

“Well met to you, Lord Thornson!” Eliwood said. “I’m making a journey to Ostia to see Hector.”

“And the mercenaries?” Thornson said dryly.

Ceniro was looking at Thornson’s knights, and among the plain soldiers, he thought he saw the face of his brother, Drew. But Drew, if it was him, refused to make eye contact back.

“I know they look a bit odd, but they’re all good friends, every one of them,” Eliwood assured him. “This is Lady Lyndis, Marquess Hausen’s granddaughter, and this is Ceniro, the mercenaries’ leader and my dear friend, and one of the best tacticians in Elibe. He’s from a village nearby, so we’re heading there so he can visit.”

Thornson offered a very slight smile. “I greet you, Lady Lyndis, Sir Ceniro. Your generosity to your people is as boundless as ever, Marquess Pherae. But I would offer you a warning.”

“What is it?” Eliwood asked, his own smile fading. Ninian clasped her hands to her heart.

“My cousin, Lord Demory, is somewhere in this region, gathering an army to himself. He does not accept that our uncle, Lord Helman, left Santaruz to my guidance and not him. You should watch yourself that you do not get caught in the crossfire.”

“Oh, good, this again,” Lyn murmured to Ceniro, who blinked but managed to keep a straight face.

“We will be careful. Will you need our assistance?” Eliwood asked. “Where is your daughter?”

Thornson shook his head. “Summer is still in Santaruz Castle, safe away from here. I am traveling this moment to one of my border castles where I can oversee Demory’s tracking, defeat, and hopeful capture. I wish to bring him to Ostia as well to receive Lord Hector’s judgement. Perhaps I will see you there.”

“Perhaps you will,” Eliwood said, smiling again.

“If he threatens my people unduly, however, I will not hesitate to execute him myself,” Thornson said firmly. “I do not believe he would rule Santaruz well, and if he harms the people he is supposed to serve… I do not think Lord Hector would disagree, do you?”

“Not at all,” Eliwood said.

Thornson nodded. “I had best be on my way, but I wish you fair travels, Lord Eliwood, Lady Ninian, Lady Eleanora.” He bowed low to the ladies, and the three bowed low to him, and then they were off on their separate ways.

They arrived in Dunborough not long after, and while Eliwood took most of the group to the village’s tiny inn, Ceniro went with Lyn, Kent, and Fiora in search of his home.

It was a well-made, modest-sized wooden house on the main – and only – street in the village, with an awning or shutter closed over a large window beside the door.

Ceniro paused as they approached. “Guess Dad’s closed for the day.”

“That’s his workshop?” Lyn asked.

“Workshop, storefront… kitchen, dining room…” He still hesitated.

“Go on,” Lyn urged him softly.

He knocked.

There was a shuffle from indoors, and a young woman with chin-length hair the same colour and texture of his opened the door. “Ah! Ceniro!” She beamed at them. “And friends, this time! Come in, come in!”

“Who is it, Anlie?” a cross voice asked from the shadows of the house.

“Ceniro’s come home, with friends!”

“You couldn’t think to warn your family first?” demanded the older woman, bustling forward. “Nothing’s ready for guests, you inconsiderate lout! No food, sawdust everywhere- And of course it’s your wild adventuring friends – who is this foreign hussy with the gown all slit up to-”

“I love your dress,” Anlie butted in hastily to Lyn. “That’s really intricate embroidery!” She turned to her mother. “Mom, I’m sure they won’t mind if we take a moment to tidy up. They’re his _friends_.”

“Indeed, it’s no trouble,” Lyn said, a little faintly; Ceniro could see she was having trouble deciding which emotion she ought to be feeling. “May we help?”

“I think-” Ceniro began.

“Don’t worry,” Anlie said, sweeping sawdust off a chair and wiping it with a rag. “Just make yourselves… as comfortable as you can! I’ll get the good beer, Mom.”

Ceniro’s mother began muttering something about the good beer, and he felt it was time to try to interject again. “I think I should make some introductions. This is my mother, Patsi, and my older sister, Anlie. …Mom, where’s Dad?”

“He’s out making a delivery. He’ll be back soon. Which you’d know if you were a good son.”

He thought of checking the farseer for an avatar that looked like his father, but decided against showing off. “Mom, Anlie, this is Kent, knight of Caelin, and Fiora, knight of Ilia, and my fiancée Lyn from Sacae.”

Abruptly, his mother’s eyes widened and she bowed very low. “My lord and ladies, welcome to our humble home. I apologize deeply that I did not greet you properly before. If only my rude, foolish son had warned me…”

“Please don’t trouble yourself,” Kent said awkwardly. “We are not nobles – well, except for Lady Lyndis, but she does not stand upon ceremony.”

“That’s right,” Lyn said, nodding. “Truly, we’re Ceniro’s friends, and we don’t need special treatment.”

“Your ladyship is very generous,” said his mother, looking confused.

“We’re passing through on our way to Ostia with some friends and I… thought I should stop by again,” Ceniro said.

“Well, I’m very glad you did!” Anlie said brightly, passing out mugs filled with beer. Decent beer, too – Ceniro’s father could afford to keep his family fed well, even in this tiny village. “So you’re the famous Lady Lyn! I’ve so often wondered what you looked like. You’re just as beautiful as he said.”

Lyn looked at Ceniro, smiling, and he blushed. “Thank you, Anlie. And you’re just as kind as he said, too. I’m happy to finally meet you.”

His mother gestured to him, and he followed her reluctantly just outside the back door into the yard. Wood was stacked for seasoning under an awning, his father’s larger tools hanging neatly on the back wall of the house; everything was identical to how he had left it last time he’d been home.

Feeling they were reasonably out of earshot of the people still inside the house, his mother rounded on him. “You’re ‘passing through’ to Ostia with ‘some friends’, you mean other people than these?” she demanded in a hissing whisper. “How many other people!? Are you ashamed of your family!?”

“No!” he cried, the tense knot building in his chest that always appeared when he got in a fight with his mother. “I didn’t think you wanted to meet them. Besides, there’s eighteen more of them, they wouldn’t fit.”

“You didn’t think-! You don’t ever think, do you!? And they’re probably all knights and ladies and high-born, violent folk that you shouldn’t be associating with, just like these, of course you’re ashamed of us!”

“I am not, even though you’re ashamed of me for no reason I can fathom! You let Drew go off and be a soldier-”

“Drew remembers his place in society! He works hard, just like your father! He’s earning his place, unlike you, you just went off and squeezed yourself into the nobles’ attention like the atrociously rude little boy you are! That’s not how a carpenter’s son gains… whatever it is you’re trying to gain! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

“I know exactly what I’m doing! I’m the best at what I do, and enough of them respect me for it!” Not something he would have usually said, but it wasn’t completely untrue…

“Yes, you and your ridiculous ‘career’, all play and no work! You’re going to get people killed!”

“I know that! My first priority is to not get people killed!”

“And you carrying that horrible foreign sword – you’re going to get yourself killed! I always thought you would, but I’m certain of it now!”

“I’m not throwing myself into danger recklessly! It’s for self-defence!”

“You don’t send word while you’re away, you don’t send word you’re coming back – you were probably just going to breeze on by, ungrateful brat!”

“If I may interject-” Kent began from the main room. The walls, though sturdy, were not that thick.

“I don’t want to remind you that I’m disappointing you by my very existence!” he snapped and turned to go back inside. The others were standing frozen; Anlie had a fixed smile on her face.

“You’ve been doing it long enough, you ought to be used to it by now!” his mother retorted, following him.

“Maybe we should… step out for a moment?” Fiora asked in a very low voice to Kent. “It’s like when Farina…”

The front door opened, and a new person stood on the doorstep. “I heard shouting,” he said quietly. “Must mean Ceniro’s home.”

“Dad!” Ceniro and Anlie said at the same time.

His father looked around at all of them. “Let’s have dinner.”

Dinner was found, and as they ate, something approaching normal conversation was had, mostly between Anlie and Lyn. Ceniro’s father, Caro, said little, watching them all quietly, but Ceniro met his eyes more than once and read in them that he was glad he was home safe for a while. His mother was sulking, and Ceniro knew she would have more to say later, although his father’s calming influence might make her message more reasonably spoken. He hoped. Kent and Fiora found themselves with less to say than they had thought, he guessed, and he wished they’d stayed at the inn with the others.

Afterwards, Anlie showed the others around a little, some of the work that his father was doing, and she even brought out the little terrible animal figurines he had carved when he was ten, before he decided that he would make a lousy carpenter and had no interest in doing the rigourous apprenticeship that began at age twelve. Lyn and Fiora cooed over the misshapen animals, and Anlie gave Lyn one of them – a strange tiger-like thing.

“So you can lose your temper,” Lyn said to him in a low voice while the others talked. “I always wondered.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, guilt and shame twisting his stomach. “I’m so sorry. That must have been horrible to hear.”

“It wasn’t comfortable, that’s certain. But I’m sorry she doesn’t understand…”

“I shouldn’t have brought you all here…”

Lyn was quiet for a moment instead of saying something uselessly comforting, and he wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse. “Well, maybe us being here will be the first step to acceptance.”

“Maybe,” he said.

“So, tell me more about yourselves,” Anlie said. “You are knights, and you’re clearly a warrior of Sacae, you must have exciting stories.”

The four laughed a bit self-consciously. “Perhaps not that exciting,” Kent said. “I am the son of a farmer of Caelin, but I began my training as a squire almost as young as Ceniro would have had to. …I can’t think of anything else interesting about me.”

“I don’t quite believe you,” Anlie said, eyes twinkling. “My youngest brother, Drew, is a soldier in the employ of Marquess Santaruz. I don’t know if he’s a squire or not, but perhaps someday he will be a knight like you! He’s still only sixteen.”

“I think we saw him today, actually,” Ceniro said.

“Really?” asked his father, leaning forward into their discussion, taking his pipe out of his mouth.

“Lord Thornson was traveling south, and he crossed paths with Lord Eliwood, whom I’m traveling with. I’m pretty sure Drew was in his guard, though he said nothing. He looked well, anyway.”

“That’s good,” said his father, leaning back again.

_Ping._

He jumped and pulled out the farseer.

“What’s that?” Anlie asked with great interest. “It looks magic.”

“It is magic,” Ceniro said. “A gift from a former employer.” He looked up at Kent and Fiora. “There’s an injured man approaching the village, status unknown. Can you intercept him, bring him healing if necessary, and report back?”

“Right away,” Kent said, and he and Fiora hurried out.

“Work?” his father asked mildly. His mother snorted.

“Maybe,” Ceniro said. “It depends if the village is in danger. My group is going to Ostia first and foremost.”

“What if Drew is in danger?” Anlie asked, eyes wide. “You wouldn’t help?”

“Drew is with Marquess Santaruz and his knights,” Ceniro said. “He’ll be safe enough there, and we’re not going to interfere with the inheritance dispute unless asked.”

“Ceniro?” Fiora said, her voice tense. “It’s one of Lord Thornson’s guards. He was ambushed and asks Lord Eliwood for immediate aid.”

Ceniro sprang to his feet with the farseer; Lyn followed suit. “Eliwood! Rally everyone, we have a mission. Meet me at the east side of the village as soon as you can.”

“Right away,” Eliwood’s voice came back, only slightly startled.

“You’re on first name terms with Marquess Pherae?” asked his father.

“He doesn’t mind,” Ceniro said. “I’m sorry, Dad, Mom, Anlie – I have to go.”

“Don’t go,” his mother said. “You’re going to get killed, with that stupid sword, and then what?”

“Mom, I can’t help Drew and Lord Thornson from here. I have to go with them.”

His father spoke up. “It’s his job, Patsi. This is what he has chosen to do. Let’s trust him.”

Unexpectedly, his mother began to cry. “But this is here, in Dunborough, this isn’t supposed to happen!”

“I’ll be back, mom. You’ll see. But I have to go. I don’t know how long I’ll be. Don’t worry about me.”

He nodded to his parents and sister and hurried out the door towards the east side of town.

When he got there, Kent was supporting the exhausted soldier, who was no longer injured thanks to Erk’s staff. Eliwood was assembling their forces, and Fiora waved Ceniro over. A crowd of curious villagers was gathering around them at a nervous distance, whispering, and he noticed that his own family had followed him.

He went up to Kent, Fiora, Eliwood, and the messenger. “Lord Eliwood,” the messenger said, still breathing hard and feeling his side as if he wasn’t quite sure it was mended, “Lord Santaruz has been attacked by Lord Demory some minutes ago with overwhelming force. He requests your immediate assistance, but he is aware that you have every right to remain uninvolved. However, he will not last through the night, and if you choose not to aid him, asks that you bid his daughter farewell.”

“How many are the enemy?” Eliwood asked.

The messenger’s face quivered a bit with fear. “Difficult to tell in the dusk and the forest, but probably about 200, sir, infantry, cavalry, and a few magic users. They are setting the forest on fire. It… it will be a massacre, sir.”

“How many of Marquess Santaruz’s knights were there when you left him?” Eliwood asked evenly.

“Maybe twenty, sir. Still a lot of our footsoldiers but I couldn’t count, sir.”

Twenty out of thirty, and no telling how many footsoldiers… No knowing if Drew was still alive. He heard his mother whimper and knew his family was thinking the same.

Eliwood turned to him. “Can we help them?”

All eyes turned to him. Ceniro swallowed, but met Eliwood’s gaze evenly. “Even with the raw numbers, we wouldn’t be outnumbered that badly. And they don’t have us. I think we can do this. …We have to do this.”

Eliwood nodded. “Yes, of course.” Unspoken was the concern that the village would get caught up in the battle, the villagers killed, the houses burned. “On your order, then.”

“How far away is the Marquess? Where is he?” Ceniro asked.

The soldier saluted him. “I will take you to him, sir!”

They arrived upon the scene of a disaster in progress; the sky was dark already, covered with thick cloud and with no hint of moon, the only illumination coming from distant fires. Ceniro could hear shrieks and the clash of weapons. A cool night wind caressed them, but he hardly noticed it.

His friends were tense, champing at the bit to be off. “Harken, Isadora, lead the cavalry in from the left! Break up the Demory attack, give Santaruz a breather! Eliwood, go inform Thornson we’re here. I believe he’s right in the middle of those knights.”

“Aye,” Eliwood called, and rode off in the wake of the rest of his cavalry.

“I… what should I do?” Eleanora asked. It was a struggle for Ceniro to not call her ‘Eliwood’s mother’ in his head. “I don’t know where to go… Should I stay near Eliwood?”

“It’s all right,” Ceniro said. “Just cast magic on those whom I tell you to, and you’ll be fine.” While the others were all used to fighting, and even more, used to fighting alongside each other, he had expected that Eleanora might not know her way around the battlefield. “You can stay near Eliwood for now. I’ll try and warn you of anything you need to know, like if I need someone to go past your position in a hurry.”

“Thank you,” Eleanora said. “I apologise…”

“No need,” he said. “Heal as many of the Santaruz knights as you can!” He called out more orders for everyone else, being as specific as he could about placement. His people didn’t have the vantage that he did, after all. It would be difficult to tell friend from foe under these conditions, especially since it appeared Demory’s men were as ragtag as his own mercenaries. And the lighting – the blasts of magic were wreaking havoc with everyone’s night vision. Rigel would excel here, however…

The first thing to do was to take some of the pressure off Thornson’s knights. He frowned in concentration. This was not going to be easy.

“Ceniro! Ceniro!” he heard a woman calling him, and turned.

“Anlie! What in Saint Elimine’s name-”

“Ceniro, Dad’s coming to help you! We can’t talk him out of it-”

“Get out of here, you’re a civilian!”

She was transfixed by the sights and sounds ahead, a look of horror on her face – he was at the back of the group, but the fighting was now only a few feet away. “Is Drew-”

“I don’t know! Andy, come here, take my crazy sister back to town! Ninian, help him!”

“You got it!” The cavalier rode out of the shadows, grabbed Anlie around the waist, and disappeared back into the night.

The farseer couldn’t tell individual soldiers’ faces at this time of night. He couldn’t tell if Drew was still fighting, not without getting involved. He pressed forward with Erk, not only trying to find his brother but to feel out where the pressure was, where the fighting was fiercest, and to direct Pent and Harken to focus on that area. “Drew! Are you there? Drew!”

“Leave me alone, you idiot!” Well, there was Drew.

“Sir!” Fiora’s voice. “Your father has arrived!”

“Dad!” Ceniro struggled back free of the press. “Drew’s all right. What are you doing out here!? You’re not a fighter-”

“I have an axe. It’ll do in a pinch.”

“That’s a woodworking axe. You’ll ruin it on armour.”

“It doesn’t matter. Lead on.”

“Dad-”

“Son-”

Ceniro spun away – Demory had made his big mistake. “Lyn! George! Florina! Demory’s mages are exposed – head south on the west side of the group! Go now, before he realizes it! There’s three of them and a bishop. No torches. Go!” Getting the flames to be under their control instead of the enemy’s would be a big help in more ways than one. He turned back to his father. “I won’t send you back like Anlie, but you follow my orders if you want to stay alive, got it!?”

His father nodded. “Whatever you need.”

“I’ll put you with Drew. Follow me.” Hopefully he would be able to keep his father from having to do any actual fighting, and having his brother guard his father would keep him out of trouble as well. “Pent, big knot of knights towards that rise of ground – can you put a Thunder on the one with the wolf’s helm? Fiora! Back off, there’s archers below you! Kent, Frank, make a loop from the left, flank them, help her. Yens, Louise, lancemen to your right!”

“Mages down,” Lyn reported curtly.

“Thanks! Get out of there, they’re trying to shut the stable door. Lots of axes.” Shutting the stable door after the horses had been stolen – or killed, in this case. They knew what he meant.

“We’re gone,” Lyn said.

He paused for a moment, eyes never still, sweat beginning to trickle down his forehead even in the cool night air. The battle was beginning to stabilize – Santaruz was beginning to rally, no longer foundering in a sea of enemy blades – but that was a long way from winning the battle. Time to focus on the next goal while he figured out how to win. “Don’t get stuck in, everyone! That’s what they want!”

Towards that end, he kept pulling people back, circulating the front row as often as he could, trying to wrest as much ground as he could to manoeuvre against Demory’s tacticsless tide. They were still losing ground, losing ground instead of people at least, and soon he’d have to think about protecting the village. It had flimsy wooden walls; a good solid charge would knock any of them over, let alone setting fire to the place. He’d rather fight in the open.

But things were just starting to go his way, and he could breathe now. Beside him, his father waited, every muscle in his body straining with uncertainty, the hyper-aware tension of someone ready for an attack at any second. An attack that likely wouldn’t come, between Isadora and Caddie helping the Santaruz knights take the brunt of the soldiers in front of them at the moment. “How are you holding up, Dad?”

“This is… very strange,” Caro said in a low voice.

Ceniro nodded. “It does seem that way at first glance. Andy! You’re back, go with Lowen, in the melee right of centre! Rebecca, target that woman with the sword, about forty-five to your left!” He nodded again. “There’s so much going on, and everything’s so fast. But you don’t have to worry about that. You and I, we’re the last shield for Erk and Ninian if anything gets past Isadora. That’s all you need to do right now.”

“Right.” Caro gripped his axe tighter, sweat beading on his concentrating face.

Ceniro thought of telling him it was all right for now, but realized that things could change in the blink of an eye and his father, inexperienced, would probably react faster with constant alarm than with a last-moment warning.

“Ceniro!” Eliwood’s voice. “I see Demory’s heraldry, he’s towards the back.”

“Thanks!” His mind spun. They would have to hold here or risk the village, he couldn’t back up anymore, wouldn’t be able to manouevre anymore… But Demory was on the field… “Ah, I have it. Stay here with Drew, Dad. Things should be over soon. Lyn! Pent! Rigel! Meet me in the middle with Eliwood!”

He found Marquess Santaruz and Eliwood. “I need all the mounted knights to head to the west side of the battle, flank the enemy, pound them as hard as they can.”

“That will leave us defenceless here in the centre!” Thornson cried, unhorsed, disheveled, shocked at the suggestion.

“That’s exactly what we want them to think. What does Demory want? He wants your life. He’ll ignore just about everything else to get that, based on his conduct of the battle so far. Without him, his troops will give up. Besides, that’s why we send the knights, it will take a lot of the pressure off here.”

Thornson stared at him. “We’re all about to die, and you want me to be bait!? Are you insane, young man?”

“We’re not about to die,” Eliwood said, calmly. “He wouldn’t be suggesting it if we were.”

“I’ll be here, with Lord Pent,” Ceniro assured the marquess. And Lyn and Rigel would be there as well, but Ceniro didn’t know how the marquess felt about women – young women, in particular – and Sacaeans. Plus which, his most heavy cavalry wouldn’t be going far, not the way he was planning it. Eliwood, Harken, and Isadora could sweep back into position at any time. And Eleanora was with them.

Still, they might not be all about to die, but he could see why Thornson thought he was insane. But he had too much in this battle – his father, his brother, the rest of his friends including Marquess Pherae and _his_ family, and the worthy successor to the Santaruz throne. He couldn’t afford to lose.

Time to go. “Eliwood, lead the knights off now. Thor- Lord Thornson, get Demory’s attention. We want him to charge us, alone and emotionally compromised, if possible.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Thornson muttered. “Demory, you witless sack of goats’ tails! How have you not killed me yet!?”

“Tide of numbers will do you in, doddering wreck!” came from across the battlefield. Ceniro gave his final orders and waited, leaning forward slightly, watching intently.

“You couldn’t even do it yourself if I handed you the sword!” Thornson shouted. “Face me, coward!”

The black-armoured knight with Demory’s heraldry broke out of the enemy ranks, charging in their direction. “Go!”

At Ceniro’s command, black tendrils burst from the ground, entangling themselves around the legs of Demory’s horse. Elfire blazed up behind, illuminating Demory to them and blinding and scorching the enemy.

Demory pitched forward as his horse fell, tumbling in a clatter of armour to the ground at Thornson’s feet. Lyn darted forward and rested her knee on his back, one of her swords by his neck, the other by his right arm.

Thornson took a step forward and pointed his own bloodied sword at Demory’s face. “Lord Demory.”


	7. Episode 6: The Unflinching

Episode 6: The Unflinching

“Demory,” Thornson said, “I would have brought you to Ostia to face Lord Hector’s judgement, not mine. All you had to do was behave honourably and refrain from attacking villages.”

“Cut the crap, Thorn,” Demory snarled. “You and your honourable cowardice – I should have won! Santaruz should have been mine! But then you brought Marquess Pherae’s reinforcements-”

“Marquess Pherae was only here by chance,” Thornson said. “In any case, it matters little what you believe now. You attacked my villages in a quest for wanton destruction, for petty revenge, and that means I consider you too dangerous to deliver to Ostia. May Saint Elimine have mercy on your soul.” He nodded to his captain. “Jocelyn.”

Ceniro turned away before he saw Demory executed. He wasn’t a huge fan of dead people, despite his profession, and the idea of executing prisoners, even dangerous, dishonourable ones like Demory, wasn’t something he wanted to watch. It was an ethical dilemma that he’d wrestled with and not really found a satisfactory answer for since he began his career, so he simply went to find his father.

His father and brother were standing near each other without speaking. “Hey.”

“Ceniro,” Caro said, and fell silent. He peered up at his father anxiously. Perhaps the battle had been too much for him after all.

“Are you all right, Dad?”

“I’ll be fine… It’s just a lot to take in.” He gestured to the battlefield. “Seeing you take control like that… I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“But… so many dead…” Ceniro thought it was lucky it was dark; his father couldn’t truly see the extent of the damage by the slowly guttering light of the mage fires.

He knew, of course. The farseer told him everything.

“I know. It’s always hard to see. But if I don’t save at least the people on my side… I can’t stop people from fighting, but I can keep my friends alive.”

His father shook his head. “I can’t say I completely understand, but I know now that you can’t do anything else, and I accept it.”

“I don’t understand!” Drew interrupted. “He’s giving orders to lords, how is that okay? He’s going to meet someone who will just kill him for insolence!”

“I already met him,” Ceniro said, “and I survived. If you mean people who don’t want to follow my orders because I’m not noble-born, I’ve met them too, and I can work around that.”

“But we do follow Ceniro’s orders,” a new voice, and Ceniro turned to see Eleanora and Ninian. Eleanora had spoken, and he bowed to her. “I am of a like mind to your… your father, is it? It has been a very long time since I’ve seen a battle. Pherae has been quite peaceful these many years, and Elbert usually took care of things with Marcus without involving me.” She turned to his family. “Greetings, I am Eleanora, and this is Ninian.”

“Caro, your ladyships. This is my son Drew.” Caro and Drew both bowed low.

Eleanora gestured for them to raise their heads. “All your children are very brave, Caro. You and your wife must be so proud, as I am of my son.” She turned to Ceniro. “In spite of my qualms about fighting, I thank you for giving me the opportunity to help Eliwood, and for keeping me safe through it all. You are very skilled.”

“It’s as Lord Eliwood said, is it not?” Ninian said. “I am glad you came with us, dear Lady Eleanora.”

“And I am glad you happened to be passing through at this time,” said a new voice.

Ceniro turned to find Lord Thornson standing there. “My- my lord.”

“At ease, Sir Ceniro.” Thornson inclined his head to him. “You are a remarkable man, to win such a battle of so few against so many. Perhaps it is the personal bond between you and your men. There are few who conduct battle in such a way, and I’ve seen none who do it so effectively, except perhaps the late Commander Eubans. The only other strategist I’ve met until now was Lord Milton, and he is much more imposing than you, and yet… you would seem to be his match in every respect except the physical.”

Ceniro grimaced. “Milton’s pretty good, yes.”

Thornson raised an eyebrow. “I sense there is acquaintance, and yet no love lost between you. Very well. I sought you out not to give you praise, but to offer you reward. I understand you are the captain of this mercenary company, and while this is technically your homeland, even your homeland can offer you recompense for her defence and the rescue of her Marquess.”

“Oh.” Ceniro blinked. “Um. Thank you, my lord. I wasn’t expecting anything.”

“You are generous to risk your life and the lives of your friends without expectation, but the reward is yours whether you expected it or not.” Thornson was beginning to frown, tacitly warning Ceniro he should step up his manners before the lord took an irrational dislike to him.

He bowed. “Thank you very much, my lord. I’m glad to be of service.”

“We both are,” Eliwood said, appearing as if out of nowhere, laying a supportive hand on Ceniro’s shoulder. “In fact, everyone here is. It always makes me glad to be journeying with such honourable companions.”

“Don’t lay it on too thick,” Ceniro murmured to Eliwood.

“Don’t sell yourself short again,” Eliwood murmured back.

Thornson bowed to Eliwood with a pleased look. “Well, I thank you again that you and your unusual and honourable mercenary friends were here to save my life. Would you stay the night at my castle?”

“We would be honoured, but I think we should stick to our original plan,” Eliwood said. “Thank you, though, if I might avail myself of your invitation on my way home again…”

“I’ll keep the gates open for you,” Thornson said. “And speaking of which, please tell Ostia – Marquess Hector that the situation is resolved to the best of my knowledge.”

“I shall do so,” Eliwood said, and they parted ways.

Andy found Ceniro as they traveled back to Dunborough. “I delivered your sister safely to her home. She’s really cute. We’re going to keep in touch.”

Ceniro stared at him with raised eyebrows. “Thanks for keeping her safe.”

“I told you, you’d get me a date,” Andy said, and laughed. Ceniro facepalmed.

“I wasn’t setting you up with my _sister_ , not on purpose, and what do you call that, you had ten minutes to carry her home, not a _date_ -”

“I’m teasing, relax. Well, I mean, she’s pretty. And she’s quite brave, if impetuous, running out to find you like that. And she seems really nice.”

Ceniro made a whining noise and Andy laughed.

Drew had gone with Lord Thornson, but Caro and Ceniro headed back towards their home. This time, he went alone, leaving Lyn and Kent and Fiora with the rest of the group, and they were too tired to object. Caro went inside at once, but Ceniro sat beside Anlie on the doorstep. “What were you thinking, running off into the battle like that!?”

“I needed to warn you about Dad!”

“I could have handled it. Anlie, you’ve never seen a battle before in your life. You really worried me.”

She looked at the ground, a little morose. “I’m sorry, Cen. I wanted to help too. You’re fighting, and Drew’s fighting, and Dad went to fight, and I know I can’t fight but I thought… I’m sorry.”

“You can help in lots of other ways,” Ceniro said, and couldn’t resist saying: “Andy thinks you’re cute.”

She brightened up. “Does he really? I think he’s cute too. He’s brave and strong and kind and funny. Do you think I’ll see him again?”

He had to laugh. “I don’t know. He works for Lord Pent of Etruria, who’s traveling with me, so probably not for a while. But I certainly can’t stop you being pen-pals.”

“Oh, he told you about that? Well, um, yes.”

He shook his head. “Well, that’s your business, not mine.”

“Glad you agree on that, little brother,” she said.

His mother came out of the house and sat a bit heavily beside them. “Your father told me everything.”

“I’m sorry,” Anlie and Ceniro said in unison.

“I’m sorry for running off into danger,” Anlie said anxiously.

“I’m… sorry for being me,” Ceniro muttered.

He wasn’t expecting his mother to hug him, and stiffened in shock.

“I never wanted you to leave home,” she said into his shoulder, subdued in a way he’d never seen his mother. “You were always a quiet, sensitive child, and I knew Ostia would eat you alive… and even when you survived that, you insisted on running around the entire world all by yourself, with bandits and wild animals and whatnot all out to kill you, and you never tell me anything about what you’re doing… But your father told me what happened tonight, and he says that you’re following your calling, so I can’t say anything anymore…”

“Well – I mean-”

“Promise me you’re not going to get killed by bandits or wild animals or nobles who can’t stand you!” she cried, giving him a shake. “I never want to have to bury your poor corpse… And write me sometimes, thoughtless boy!”

He had to laugh a little. “Okay. I can do that, at least. As for the first thing, I will do my best. I don’t think you should worry.”

“I will always worry! How can you say that!?”

“At least worry less, Mom. I can handle bandits and nobles, and I haven’t been attacked by wild animals in years.”

“At least you’re not as skinny as the last two times you came home,” Anlie said. “Really, the last time I saw you, you were hardly skin and bones. I don’t know how you managed to be so cheerful with that physique! But you look healthy now.”

“Lyn takes care of me,” Ceniro said. “She’s good at hunting, and she would never let me starve. Unless she was really, really mad at me.”

“I like her,” Anlie said. “Take care of her, all right? Or, well, maybe I should say, make sure she keeps taking care of you. You need it, and she looks like she can handle herself.”

“That’s very true,” Ceniro said. “I’m the luckiest person I know.” He looked almost shyly at his mother. “So you really don’t hate me?”

“Just don’t get yourself killed,” his mother said, recovering her usual sharp tone, although it was still partly softened by recent vulnerability. “I still think she’s a strange wild foreigner, but she seems decent enough, especially if she’s Marquess Hausen’s granddaughter…”

Caro appeared at the door. “All is well?”

“All is well, Dad,” Anlie said with a smile. “We should come in to sleep, shouldn’t we?”

“Not that Ceniro would notice if there’s a roof over his head or not,” his mother said.

“Not true!” Ceniro said. “And I like real beds. You still haven’t thrown mine away, have you?”

“Of course not!” Anlie said. “Get in here. And don’t forget to brush your teeth.”

“And what do we have here?” Sain called, holding the telescope wrong way around, sweeping it in a broad arc until he centered on the giggling woman a few feet away from him. “Fair maiden distant off the starboard bow, ahoy!”

“You’re hilarious, dear husband,” Salir told him, putting her hands behind her back and tilting her head at him coyly even as she fought to keep more giggles in.

“I think she’s saying something, but she’s so far away, it’s hard to make out, captain!” Sain cried, squinting harder through the telescope. Salir chortled and reached out to tickle him. “Ow, ow, no fair! She’s a sea witch! She has tentacles!”

“Saaa-iiin!” She grabbed the telescope out of his hands. “It’s my turn again!”

He grabbed her around the waist. “Are you a pirate, o beautiful sea witch?”

“That’s right, I’m here to steal your heart and your booty!” She put the telescope to her own eye, right way around, looking out from the castle. “Hey, wait a minute-”

“What is it, my darling?”

“I think I saw a pegasus knight?”

“Was it Dame Florina, by chance?”

“I can’t tell. Hang on.” She used the crenellated wall as a boost to hop onto Sain’s shoulders, wrapping her legs around his neck. “Maybe?”

Sain laughed. “I’m not so tall you’d get much of an advantage from this position, love.”

“Maybe not, but I’m really short, and it’s fun. Oh! Oh, it is Dame Florina, and that one sister of hers, the one with teal hair! They’ve come back! Maybe Kent and Wil are with them, I’ve missed them.”

“Let’s go tell the steward to make preparations-”

“Wait, wait wait wait, there’s more people! I think- I think it’s Lady Lyn!”

Wordlessly Sain reached up and she passed him the telescope again. “You are absolutely right! And Lord Eliwood! And Ceniro! Come, Salir, we must alert the Marquess! Turn out the guard! Warn the kitchens!”

“And I’ll get the drinks!” Salir said, ever practical, hopping off his shoulders.

Sain laughed. “You can take the girl out of the bar, but you can’t take the barmaid out of the girl.”

“And you like it that way,” Salir said, shaking a finger at him before she darted off.

“I certainly do, my sweetheart, I certainly do.”

They were met at the gate by Sain, Salir, Chancellor Reissmann, and Marquess Caelin himself, leaning on a cane, all of them smiling with great pleasure. Lyn strode forward and embraced her grandfather, while Kent and Sain shook hands – although Sain couldn’t help turning it into a hug as well. Rebecca and Wil exclaimed over Salir’s new short haircut, and Chancellor Reissmann urged them further into the castle, where they could be comfortable.

Lord Hausen greeted Eliwood and Eleanora warmly, and kissed Ninian’s hand while she blushed. Pent and Louise were introduced, and their followers, and Rigel, and Sain teased Ceniro over his deel and his sword, and then they were in the main hall and refreshments were brought. Salir led the charge.

“Sooo there’s a few cute guys in your new group,” she teased Ceniro when she brought him his drink.

“You’re married,” he rejoined bluntly. “And so are most of them.”

“Is the blond cavalier married?” she asked with a wink.

Ceniro stared at her, wondering whether to take her seriously. “Not yet, but…”

Her eyes sparkled. “But?”

“There might be a person.” Who might be his sister, but he wasn’t saying that out loud in the middle of the hall.

Salir giggled with an impossibly wide grin. “Oooh, you must keep me updated. So when are you and Lady Lyndis getting married? Lord Hausen wants to see great-grandchildren, you know!”

Ceniro sputtered into his drink. “He what now? No, we haven’t been married- what?” Quick, quick, distract her. “So where are _your_ and Sain’s kids, then!? No one’s been kidnapped recently, so-”

“Oh, it’s not for lack of shenanigans,” she said, laughing. “And it’s been- One moment, Sain, darling!” She blew Ceniro a kiss. “I’ll be back, Ceniro, for any news I can’t get out of Wil!”

They slept well that night, and the next morning, Lyn informed Ceniro that her grandfather was finally abdicating and retiring.

He stared at her. “He can do that? He knows about your decision, right?”

“Yes, of course. But he says he’s old, and tired, and he’d like to have a few years to not worry about very much – except me, apparently he worries a lot about me.” Her forehead creased a bit. “I should write him more letters, I guess.”

“Like I should with my mother. Salir told me he wants great-grandchildren.”

A blush rose on Lyn’s cheeks. “H-he didn’t say anything like that to me. Anyway, he’ll have to wait.”

Ceniro smiled, not without his own blush. “Yes, I guess he will. So what now for Caelin?”

“Ostia will find someone to rule it. In the meantime, Chancellor Reissmann will keep it running smoothly. But he’ll be coming with us to Ostia. He’s going to make a proclamation after lunch, and we’ll leave tomorrow. Also, Sain is coming with us, officially as the Commander of the Caelin Knights escorting his lord, but unofficially because he wants to gallivant around with Kent and Wil and Florina again.”

“Is he staying after Ostia?”

“I don’t know. I’ll ask him.” She smiled. “It’s just going to be like old times, except I get to spend some time with my grandfather.”

They arrived at Castle Ostia in mid-May, when many flowers were blooming and even the grimness of Ostia’s austere architecture seemed a bit lighter and more welcoming. Fiora and Florina were flying on ahead when suddenly Ceniro heard a squeak from Florina.

He jumped; he wasn’t expecting an attack, not here or now, in the middle of a busy highway in the heart of the most well-established canton in Lycia, but even as he snatched out the farseer, he realized that it hadn’t been a frightened squeak, just a startled one. “Florina?”

“S-s-s-sister!?”

That would be Farina, taking wing from the city walls to join the other two pegasus knights. “Hello, there, sisters! What would you be doing here?”

“We’re here with Ceniro and Lord Pent and Lord Eliwood and many others,” Fiora said. “And why are you here?”

“Because my partner is a nut, and we need to resupply before we head out again to make our fortune! He just wants to bury it again, but I’ll convince him eventually! …But first we have to find it.”

“I see,” Fiora said, chuckling.

“So, Ceniro’s here, huh? There you are! You can still hear me, right?”

“I can hear you, Farina,” Ceniro said. “Dart’s still with you?”

“Yes, but he’s in the market right now. Look out, I’m coming in for a landing!” A white missile plummeted out of the blue sky and cantered to a halt beside him, folding its wings almost smugly. Farina sat on its back, looking equally smug. “You look well! Ah, Lady Lyn, you’re still taking care of this dork. Good for you! Greetings, Lord Eliwood. Hmm, a bunch of people I know, a few people I don’t. So what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same, Dame Farina,” Eliwood said, smiling, not having heard her conversation with Fiora and Florina. “We’re mostly here to see Hector. Would you like to join us?”

“Absolutely!” Farina cried. “Any group with these particular people always has the best adventures. And pays well, too, usually.”

“We’re mercenaries ourselves, right now,” Ceniro told her. “You could join us, if you like.”

“Tempting,” Farina said, hesitating. “But… Dart has his quest, and I have my own quest, and… I don’t know if it’ll work out on a permanent basis. But thanks for the offer! I can’t deny that you’d be much better off with me! Our triangle attack would strike fear into the hearts of all your opponants!”

“Very true,” Ceniro said.

“But I’ll come with you to see Lord Hector. First we have to grab Dart from the marketplace. I’ll go buzz him.” Her pegasus made a short gallop and sprang into the air, whizzing towards the heart of the city.

When they finally made it up to the castle, a confused Dart in tow being chattered at by Wil and Rebecca, they were told that Marquess Ostia was busy. But within half an hour, before they were even settled into their apartments, they received word that he was able to see them, and Hector himself arrived hard on the heels of the messenger.

“Hector!” Eliwood cried. “I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon!”

“Eliwood, you’re in town for the first time in a year – I’m going to _make_ time for you, dammit. I’m Marquess Ostia, I can do that. So what brings you here? I’d think you’re at least as busy as me.”

Eliwood wordlessly gestured to the large, shapeless bundle that was Durandal, which he was holding.

“Ah,” Hector said, his mouth settling into serious lines. “I was hoping to talk to you about that, myself. Do you have time now?”

“Since you’ve made time and all,” Eliwood said, cheerfully, and they began heading across the castle to Hector’s chambers. “Ceniro, Lyn, Lord Pent and Lady Louise are here as well – and Ninian and my mother.”

“They’re all very welcome,” Hector said. “I imagine most of these should join in our discussion. Come on, then. Ceniro, you’re looking well – is that a sword?”

Ceniro blushed. “Y-yes.”

Hector grinned evilly. “Want a match later?”

“No!”

Lyn laughed. “I’ll take you on, Hector!”

“Right.” Hector mimed writing in a book. “6:30 – kick Ceniro’s ass. 6:31 – get ass kicked by Lyn.”

“Pretty much,” Ceniro said.

And he fell silent as a tall stern-faced man in heavy armour crossed their path in the great hall. The man’s gaze flicked over each of them, lingering on Eliwood and the bundle he carried.

Ceniro felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. The man’s eyes met his and he swallowed, the man’s eyes narrowed, and time froze for him.

But no one seemed to have noticed, the man continued on, and he recovered himself and followed after the others. Hector had been introduced to Klein finally, and was staring at the baby as if it was some kind of alien creature that was going to attack him. Klein, for his part, was staring back in a similar fashion, while Louise, Pent, Ninian, and Lyn laughed at them.

Hector led them to his study, a room Ceniro vaguely remembered from their stay in Castle Ostia last time he’d been there. Standing guard at the door were Oswin and a woman in silver armour with steady blue eyes. “Your guests, Lord Hector?”

“Yeah,” Hector said. “Guys, this is Commander Freya. She’s the captain of the Marquess’s guard. She was my brother’s right hand. Freya, you know Eliwood and his mother Eleanora, I’m sure.”

“Marquess Pherae, Lady Eleanora,” Freya said solemnly, bowing, and Eliwood murmured a greeting.

“You know what, I’ll introduce the rest of you later,” Hector said. “Right now, time is precious. Let’s get to it. Eliwood, is it all right if Freya stays?”

“If you trust her, that’s fine,” Eliwood said. “Oswin, are you staying as well?”

“If you wish it, it would be my honour,” Oswin said.

“Someone go dig up Matthew-” Hector began.

“No need, my lord,” said Matthew’s voice, and they turned to see the slight man appear from behind a wall hanging. “I knew Marquess Pherae was coming, and decided to prepare my dramatic entrance. However, I will warn you, Serra cornered me in the hall…”

“And I can’t believe you were going to start without me!” Serra squeaked, dashing into the room with a face pink from running and her staff clutched in her hands. “Is it another adventure? Oh, Lady Lyn, how I’ve missed you!”

“Hello, Serra,” Lyn said, smiling. “Ceniro and Pent can explain what’s going on best, I think.”

“Let’s have it,” Hector said, leaning forward in his chair as Oswin locked the door.

Hector was frowning again as Ceniro and Pent finished their explanation of their discoveries. “I never really felt good just having Armads sitting around, but this… this is more serious than I would have guessed. For sure, you should put it back as soon as you can.”

“’You’?” Ceniro asked.

Hector shook his head irritably. “I might be able to get time off to escort you to Durandal’s cave. I do need a break. But all the way to the Western Isles? That’ll take a few months and who knows what’ll happen to Ostia in my absence.”

“Not to mention Pherae,” Eliwood said.

“Well, you don’t have to take responsibility for Armads,” Hector told him.

Eliwood shrugged. “If you were escorting me to Durandal’s resting place, surely I should escort you to Armads’ resting place.”

“Peace!” Lyn said. “So what did you mean, Hector? Although I already have an idea.”

Hector raised his eyebrows at her. “And that would be?”

Lyn glared at him for making her say it out loud. “You’re going to give us this mission.”

“I mean, you’re doing the whole rest of the continent anyway, you may as well… Freya, what is it?”

“Nothing, my lord,” Freya said quietly.

“I’d rather you speak your mind. Normally you do, what’s wrong now?”

“I’m just… shocked to know that the Legendary Armads was within Castle Ostia, and… and everything else…”

“I figured,” Hector said. “Hey, I’ll tell you the rest of the story later, all right? How I was given Armads and all. It’s… you might not believe it, but…”

“I’ll believe it once I see the weapon,” Freya said. “But I have another question. What if someone discovers one of the Legendary Weapons before you come to it?”

“I was going to ask that, too,” Hector said. “You’ve only sealed one that’s in a remote location anyway, and we have two that are safe for now, but the rest are on the other side of the continent. If shaman are moving to find them already, or if someone just stumbles across one…”

“There’s not much we can do about that,” Pent said. “We just have to be fast. And if someone does gain one, sure, they can do a lot of damage, especially if the spirit of the weapon accepts them. But…” He shrugged.

“We’ll just have to defeat them,” Ceniro said.

Freya stared at him. “To so casually say you must defeat a wielder of a Legendary Weapon… Would you be able to defeat Lord Hector, armed with Armads?”

Ceniro and Hector looked at each other. “I’m not sure,” Ceniro said at last. “Even with Lyn, I don’t know if I’d be able to maintain my near-perfect survival record-”

“Perfect survival record,” Eliwood interrupted. “The things that happened during our journey a year ago were not your fault. You still have not lost a single soldier to an enemy weapon.”

Ceniro waved off the interruption. “But you would eventually be stopped. Anyway, most of the Weapons are still safe, really. Aureola is guarded by the Church of Saint Elimine, isn’t it? And Apocalypse is still held by Bramimond. So the only ones that are really at risk are Maltet, Barigan’s lance, and Murgleis, Hanon’s bow, and Eckesachs, Hartmut’s sword, because we don’t have the least idea where they are yet.”

Hector sat back. “All right, I’ll grant you that. The odds aren’t terrible. Still… be swift.”

“We’ll be as swift as we may,” Lyn assured him.”

Freya came to attention. “For now, you declared your intention of going to Durandal’s resting place, which I gather is in the mountains north of Ostia? I will begin preparing for such a journey. With discretion, of course, my lord.”

“She’s a smart one,” Matthew said aside to Ceniro.

“I mean,” Hector said, standing and swinging his arms, “I can have a vacation to hang out with my old friend Eliwood, can’t I? And we’re just going hiking with our other friend the mercenary captain, right?”

Pent laughed. “I’m sure your court will believe it.”

“I’ll just have to buckle down to work afterwards, or they’ll think I’m returning to my old ways. Right! Freya, Oswin, I’ll leave this to you. How soon can we set out?”

“Not sooner than three days from now,” Oswin said. “There’s a delegation coming from Thria the day after tomorrow which can’t be postponed.”

“There you have it,” Hector said. “You have the run of the city until then. Is that all right, Eliwood?”

“It’s just fine,” Eliwood said. “We’ll go look around the city like tourists. Right, Ceniro?”

“I was actually thinking of visiting my teacher,” Ceniro said. “But you go right ahead.”

“Ah, the mysterious Lord Garlent,” Lyn said. “Have fun.”

“I’m not going until tomorrow…”

“Crotchety old fart,” Hector muttered. “Don’t know why you’d want to visit him for fun, but it’s none of my business.”

“People keep making a big deal out of this ‘staying in touch’ business,” Ceniro said, “so I’m going to try some of it. _You_ have fun, Lyn.”

“I’ll do my best without Hector around to pester,” she teased. Hector sighed but grinned.

Lord Garlent was at home in his house in the city; Ceniro was shown into the rather bleak and stately parlour and saw his old teacher again for the first time since he had graduated. “I’m back.”

“You always did have to state the obvious,” Lord Garlent sighed. “Chess?”

Ceniro smiled as he sat down across from him, picking up one of the well-remembered wooden knights and running his finger across the carven shapes. “Yes.”

“So, what have you been up to, boy?” Garlent asked as they each set up their side of the chessboard. Garlent lined his up with military precision in one corner, and Ceniro scattered his around a bit more haphazardly. Garlent went first.

“This and that,” Ceniro said. “I’m sure you’ve heard a little of it, and I apologize for not coming back sooner to tell you myself.”

“It’s fine,” Garlent waved the apology away. “If all my former students did that, I’d never get a moment’s peace. So you helped young Lyndis, did you? And the former Mage General of Etruria? And now you’re captain of a mercenary company. Finally figured it out, did you?”

Ceniro looked sharply at his mentor as he moved a bishop to D9. “Figured what out?”

“That you needn’t waste time with nobles and their petty games. To find people who think like you and make your living with them.”

Ceniro stared. “You never, ever said anything about that when I was studying with you.”

“And what would that have accomplished, hmm? You were so impetuous and stubborn then, even though you pretended not to be, you would have rushed headlong into it and found yourself among hardened mercenaries when you were still a soft weak pup. They would have used you, rather than the other way around.”

“I don’t use my friends,” Ceniro muttered as he moved a pegasus knight to J6, taking Garlent’s archer. “We’re colleagues.”

“Same difference. The fact that you’re captain tells me that they properly respect you, and for that, I am glad for your sake. Now, what in the name of Saint Elimine’s toe-ring are you doing here?”

“I came to-”

“Not that, the board!”

Ceniro stared at the board. He wasn’t doing too badly, Garlent was always a difficult opponent…

A bony palm shot out and bopped him in the forehead, and he started back in his seat. “What!?”

“You’re not fighting at your full potential!” Garlent raved. “You’re supposed to be the best, boy. You can beat me. Prove it!”

“But-”

“Focus!”

Ceniro blinked and flinched. He’d heard that word too often from the past, although not usually from Garlent.

His eyes narrowed. Garlent knew exactly what he was doing, invoking those memories. Was he trying to make him angry, or to throw him, to reduce him to the same mental state he’d had when he was a student? Or just to exhort him to focus instead of sitting here trying to figure out the mind games?

He looked at the board again. He didn’t know if he could do this, but… Garlent said that he could. And that jolt had shaken him up a bit, hardened his resolve. He had thought they were just playing for fun. He should have known better.

“I see you still try to save every unit you possibly can,” Garlent commented as they resumed play.

“Each of these pieces represents the life of a man or woman,” Ceniro said. “Maybe it’s Eliwood. Maybe it’s Lyn. Maybe it’s little Nino. I’m not going to waste them.”

“Even when you need to spring a trap?” Garlent asked sharply.

Ceniro smiled. “My people are too good to just die like that. And if they’re not, I’m not using them to spring traps. It’s something this game will never truly capture.”

“If I weren’t so old and creaky, I’d come along with you and watch.”

“If you weren’t so old and creaky, I’d let you – and make you fight.”

“You’d do that to an old man? One who took you in and mentored you? A respected lord of Ostia?”

Ceniro looked up at him with raised eyebrow. “I’ve had _Marquess_ Ostia in my army before, so that’s not an issue. You took me in because my school got me a scholarship to Lord Venedan’s class and Lord Venedan sent me to you – and you yourself said I had potential.”

“And I was right,” Garlent said, watching Ceniro from under his eyebrows.

“My point is, you never did anything for me out of the kindness of your heart. You’re far too practical for that. And I did say ‘if you weren’t so old’.”

Garlent cackled. “You’re right on the money – and I’m glad to see you’ve finally grown a spine, as well.”

“Me too. Check.”

Garlent got out of that one and finally took one of Ceniro’s pieces, placing Ceniro’s lord in check. Ceniro took the offending paladin. “Checkmate.” If it had been real life, his own druid wouldn’t have died… but the game didn’t reflect that. He could never keep a perfect survival rate in this game. But there weren’t awful consequences to losing a piece here and there, so he was all right with that.

“There, you see?” Garlent said. “Even though you weren’t trying properly for half the game, you can win.” He looked more closely at Ceniro. “Or did you come in here thinking you couldn’t beat your old teacher, just because I’m your old teacher?”

Ceniro blinked at him. “You might be right.”

“You have to eliminate blind spots like that, boy. Always play to win, even when you think you can’t.”

“I do in real life,” Ceniro assured him.

“Do it always. And remember – act, and results will follow.”

“I know,” Ceniro said. “I remember that daily.”

“Do you? Good. Wish half my students did that. Maybe half of them wouldn’t be dead, then.” Garlent snorted. “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

“You’re just pretending you’re not eager to hear me talk about my own accomplishments,” Ceniro said, reaching for the pouch at his side. “Actually, I do have something you might be interested in…”

On the next day, Hector was finally ready to go, and Commander Freya had assembled appropriate gear for everyone. Lord Hausen and Lady Eleanora stayed behind to converse with old friends and acquaintances, but the rest of Eliwood’s group was there, Hector and Oswin and Matthew and Serra and Freya were there, Sain was there – Salir had stayed behind in Caelin with the promise that she wouldn’t get kidnapped again – Farina and Dart were there, and of course Ceniro’s companions were there.

They saw few travelers, even though it was beautiful spring weather on the days they journeyed north, and the further north they went, the fewer people they saw. So they spent their time talking, reminiscing, and in Sain’s case, singing. The mountains grew taller, and many of them were still covered with snow. The valleys were green and covered in green carpets dotted with wildflowers, or thickly wooded with dark pine trees that rustled in the wind.

Matthew sidled up to Ceniro while they rested in the evening. “So I never did really congratulate you on getting together with Lady Lyn. Tell me, did you speak first, or did she?”

Ceniro stared blankly at the mountains, trying to remember. “I honestly don’t remember. It was probably her. I remember she kissed me first.”

Matthew laughed, and Wil, on his other side, laughed too. “That sounds like Lady Lyn.”

“Well, well, look who it is,” Sain said, walking up with Kent. “I remember a group like this once upon a time, and we were all watching pretty girls…”

“We can still be watching pretty girls,” Wil said, staring unabashed at Florina and Fiora. “In fact, now we don’t even have to be secretive about it, right, Kent?”

Kent coughed something polite.

“Actually, I have a suggestion to make on this subject, o tactical maker of matches,” Matthew said, and Ceniro’s interest was piqued in spite of himself.

“I have concerns,” Kent began.

“I have no concerns,” Sain countered him. “Let’s hear it. Who are we pairing up? You? Oswin? Lady Serra?”

Matthew looked away briefly. “Not me, not right now. If I find anyone, I’ll let you know. No, not me, not those other people, the young master!”

“Oooh, really?” Wil leaned forward now, all eager eyes and ears. Even Ceniro was a little taken aback.

Matthew nodded conspiratorially. “Indeed. I happen to know that Commander Freya, though she is very good at stoically hiding her feelings, cares very much for our young Marquess – and he bickers with her so much I rather think he fancies her as well. So, should we come into combat, I recommend they remain in proximity.” He winked.

“I… I can do that,” Ceniro said. “I probably would have anyway, so I doubt he’ll- they’ll be suspicious… but… It’s true? Hector likes Commander Freya?”

Matthew nodded again, solemnly. “Cross my heart and hope to die. Probably by Hector’s axe if he finds out I’m telling you this.”

“Your secret is safe with us,” Kent said. But then he cast an eye at Wil and Sain, who were grinning like madmen. “I hope.”

“They won’t tell Hector,” Ceniro said. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Sain’s eyes widened even as he laughed. “You’re actually rather terrifying, has anyone ever told you that?”

“What?” Ceniro spluttered as the implications of what he said caught up to him. “No! I just meant I’d throw you at harder enemies as punishment, I didn’t mean I’d _kill_ you-”

Matthew laughed. “Ah, still so easy to tease. Does Lady Lyn take advantage of it?”

“Not too often,” Ceniro muttered.

“Oi! Ceniro!” came a shout from Hector himself across the camp. “We should split the group in half and do a mock-battle!”

“Who would lead the other side?” Ceniro asked. “Besides, I’m tired, I don’t feel like it.” He realized that sounded pretty childish, especially when he’d often had his group run training exercises on the plains. “Maybe another day.”

Hector pouted as he came closer to them. “Well, you’re no fun. In that case, Eliwood and I are gonna spar, want to help?”

“How am I going to help?” the small man asked mildly. “You’re plenty capable of beating each other up on your own.”

“But you can tell us how! You’re not too tired to strategize for two fighters.”

“I’ve trained you from here to the Dread Isle and back, you don’t need me telling you what to do.”

“Besides, isn’t having Ceniro essentially fight himself somewhat pointless and maybe impossible, my lord?” Wil asked.

Hector frowned. “Maybe you’re right about that. You’d have no choice but to take a side, even unconsciously. You’d have to be a literal god to do otherwise.”

“Not necessarily,” Ceniro said. “But it doesn’t work so well with only two people, no. But you go ahead. Don’t forget to include Lyn afterwards.”

“It was her idea,” Hector said. “She’s not going to let anyone forget her. But she’s fighting Freya first. All right, then, Eliwood, let’s get to it.”

“You should use your Legendary Weapons, my lords,” Sain called, joking, and enjoyed the various reactions of the people around him.

Eliwood and Hector were both remarkable fighters, Ceniro reflected, watching the two spar. The grace of the knight and the strength of the brawler were self-evident, but they – and Lyn and Freya, further over – all moved with an economy of movement borne out of experience and practice. Freya was having a difficult time against Lyn’s quick dual swords, but she wasn’t falling back, either, her silver halberd keeping Lyn at a distance, forcing Lyn to side-step it constantly.

Hector tapped Eliwood in the shin at the same time that Eliwood tapped Hector on the shoulder next to his neck. “Damn,” Hector said. “Another win for you, looks like. Lyn! Want to trade?”

“Just… a minute…” Lyn said, going under the halberd and tapping Freya on the chestguard. Freya bowed to Lyn with a small smile and the four of them paired off again.

“We should do that,” Sain said to Kent. “It’s been a while. And we could get Harken and Isadora, and those brothers to join us! Harken, Isadora, Andy, Frank, want to spar? Oh, and the beauteous pegasus sisters, and Dart!”

“Now that’s good company to be named in the same breath in,” Dart said, grinning.

“What about us?” Yens asked, gesturing to himself, Caddie, and George. “We’ll get in line. We need one more person at least… Sir Lowen?”

“Just don’t hurt yourselves!” Serra scolded them from a safe distance, where she was leaning over Erk’s shoulder. “I’m the one who has to fix you, and I just know you’ll bleed all over my dress as usual, so be careful!”

“As my lady says,” Harken said, saluting George before they crossed swords.

Ceniro found himself on the edge of camp with Ninian, Wil, Rebecca, Rigel, Pent, and Louise and Klein. Erk and Serra were nearby. Matthew and Oswin had joined the fighting people.

“They’re certainly lively,” Rebecca commented. “Oh, look how dashing Lowen looks tonight!”

“They’re all happy to be seeing each other again,” Louise said, bouncing Klein. “I know I’m happy to see them.” Her husband hummed in agreement and put an arm around her shoulder.

“You’re all crazy, but in a good way,” Rigel said thoughtfully.

Wil chuckled. “That we are.”

The rest of the journey to the cave was uneventful. The interior of the cave was just how Ceniro remembered, but no ghosts or spirits challenged them this time, and Eliwood laid the naked blade on the altar at the back of the cave, with the sheath at the foot of the altar, and bowed to it.

Most of the others had stayed outside, having no real wish to risk the lava of the cave even for a glimpse of Roland’s tomb, but Pent had come and looked around with great interest before he began the ritual that would place a protective seal on Durandal. Ceniro, Lyn, Eliwood, Harken, Hector, Freya, and George watched him, enduring the heat as best they could.

“You need something,” Hector said to Ceniro, once they had settled themselves in the guest quarters again upon their return and met in the great hall.

“What is it?” Ceniro asked suspiciously.

Hector gestured to Matthew, who handed him something palm-sized and circular. “You’ve done a lot of things since we first met a couple years ago, and yet I’ve noticed you still don’t have anything like this. I mean, knights get Knight Crests to mark their experience, archers get Orion’s Bolts, and what do you get? I have no idea. So I pulled some strings before we left, and here we are.”

Ceniro was shaking his head. “You don’t have to-”

“Sure I do.”

“I don’t need-”

“Yes, you do,” Hector said impatiently. “Back me up, Eliwood, Lyn, Pent.”

“You should take it,” Lyn said, and Eliwood and Pent murmured agreement. “Remember when we used Heaven’s Seals? Why don’t you want that?”

Ceniro looked at his right arm. “Because my combat skills are still abysmal compared to yours?”

Wil snorted. “Your main skills were never in combat anyway. What’s the real problem?”

“Do you not think you are ready?” Pent asked. “Have you truly examined your feelings, or is this a feeling from your past when you were less sure of yourself?”

That gave Ceniro pause. Pent was right, just as Garlent was right; he was reflexively refusing honours and rewards because he still didn’t consider himself ready or worthy. But if he really considered his abilities, his confidence, his undeniable track record ever since he had turned professional… He was ready. And he was getting stronger physically, too. He would still improve there, of course, but really this was a fine time to boost his skills to the next level.

Was that a blind spot he was working on eliminating?

But he didn’t want to just give in, either… “All right,” he sighed, letting his head flop onto his chest. “You win. I’ll promote.”

“It’s like pulling teeth,” Hector grumbled, but handed him the Earth Seal.

Ceniro took it. It felt warm. What was it Athos had said when Eliwood, Lyn, and Hector had taken their Heaven’s Seals? To focus on it?

A bright white light burst from the Earth Seal and washed over him.

When he had blinked the spots from his eyes, he felt… more alert, stronger, taller, if that were possible, although a glance at Lyn – who was beaming proudly at him – showed that he was the same height as always.

“How do you feel?” Eliwood asked, a little anxiously.

Ceniro looked around. Colours seemed more vibrant. Movements were easier to follow. Even sounds were clearer. Energy rushed through him. “I feel great.” He didn’t feel like he could take any of his friends on in single combat and win, still, but… he felt better than he’d ever felt before in his life. A grin finally broke across his face, so big it hurt. “Really great.”

Lyn threw herself at him and hugged him. “I’m so happy for you! Hector, you actually had a good idea! A really good idea!”

“Well you don’t have to sound so shocked,” Hector sniffed, but he was grinning too as he clapped Ceniro on the shoulder. “It’s about time someone gave this guy a kick in the pants, huh? I was about to get Geraldine and Elliot in to hold him down while I slapped it on him.”

“You look wonderful, dear,” Louise said.

“I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ll do in battle now!” Andy cried.

“Ah yes, that will be interesting,” Frank murmured.

Ceniro looked around at all of them. “…Thank you. Thanks very much.”

“All right, dinner?” Hector said, starting to shepherd them towards the banquet hall.

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Matthew said.

Ceniro felt like… someone was staring at him and turned, but there were only the usual attendants and guards in the hall. Although… someone was vanishing down one of the corridors…

At dinner, Fiora stood and made an announcement. “We have decided – Kent and I, and Florina and Wil – that we would like to be married here in Ostia, with so many of our friends and companions with us. So, with your blessing, Lord Hector, Lord Eliwood, Lady Lyn, Ceniro, we would like to do this tomorrow.”

“Oh!” Lyn cried. “How lovely, and exciting! Where shall we have it? Are you going to be married in the same ceremony?”

“That’s what makes sense,” Wil said, leaning his chair back on two legs, pretending he wasn’t blushing profusely. “Lord Hector, you have a chapel in Castle Ostia, right?”

“You don’t want it at the big cathedral downtown?” Hector drawled.

Wil began to blush harder. “Nah, it’s just us, right? It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

Hector chuckled. “All right, you can use the chapel. Congratulations, you guys.”

“Yes, congratulations, with all our hearts,” Eliwood said.

“What about you, Farina, Dart?” asked Isadora, leaning forward to see them down the table.

Farina snorted. “Not me. I’m not doing things just because my sisters are doing them!”

“Yeah, we’re still working out our business partnership,” Dart said. “It’s already complicated enough without getting married on top of it!” …They were both blushing, Ceniro noted slyly.

“Ninian, would you be my bridesmaid?” Florina chirped, distracting them all from Farina and Dart’s wilful denial.

“Of course!” Ninian answered.

“I’m Kent’s best man!” Sain cried, putting a hand on Kent’s shoulder; Kent nodded agreeably.

“Well, then, I’ll have Dart for my best man,” Wil said. “If that’s all right with you?”

“Yeah, sure, if you want a pirate for a witness,” Dart said with a wink.

Fiora looked at Farina. “Well…”

Farina raised her eyebrows. “If you can stand me being up there with you, I accept.”

Fiora laughed and bowed her head. “Thank you, Farina.”

“Well, then,” Louise said briskly, even while rocking Klein to sleep, “there’s much that must be done! Lord Pent and I will help you all, don’t worry. And I’m sure Lord Eliwood and Lady Eleanora wouldn’t mind as well!”

“What about me?” Hector demanded. “Can’t I help?”

Louise giggled. “You aren’t married! But you may help, of course. The first thing is that you should all go to bed early. Lord Hector, I would like to see your steward about certain preparations…”

“I’ll come with you,” Eleanora said, smiling delightedly. “One can never have too many weddings in one’s life!”

Ceniro wasn’t involved in the preparations the next day, although he ran into Wil at some point, wearing brand new fitted fancy clothes, his hair slicked back, and a wild look in his eyes, muttering something about how Lady Louise was a crazy woman, and then a strange man stomped past. It was only a few minutes later that Ceniro realized the strange man had been Dart – without his bandanna. Truly, Louise was wreaking miracles.

Ceniro himself spent most of his time trying to stay out of the way, talking to the Reglay soldiers – George, Caddie, Yens, and Frank were all married, Frank to a Reglay girl just a few months before they’d all been exiled. None of them had children except Yens, who had six, but Ceniro felt a pang of guilt that they had to stay away for so long. And Pent’s situation wasn’t likely to be resolved until after the Legendary Weapon situation.

It wasn’t too much later that they all gathered in the chapel, festooned with flowers Louise had apparently arranged overnight, and Hector led the simple ceremony. Florina and Fiora looked very nice, with their hair done up and their fancy dresses and everything, and Kent and even Wil looked dignified in their formal clothes. Ceniro held Lyn’s hand tightly, and wondered when they’d follow the same path. It wasn’t yet. Although they loved each other very much, there wasn’t any rush, and he wasn’t making that up – they’d talked about it, and Lyn had said so, and he agreed. There weren’t any doubts. They just didn’t want to get married yet.

Soon, probably.

Both couples were glowing with happiness as they were showered with yet more flower petals by their friends and companions, although Wil took a glob of them right in the face from Dart.

“All right, let’s eat!” Sain cried, and led the way to the feast that had also been prepared overnight. When Hector wanted to pull out the stops, the stops were pulled out. Ceniro made another mental note to probably get married in Sacae, where there would be much fewer stops to pull.

But he enjoyed himself, nonetheless, and seeing his friends so happy made him very happy.

He kissed Lyn’s hand, and she turned to him and kissed him on the mouth in front of everyone.

Eliwood and the rest of the Pheraeans departed by themselves the next morning, with many cheerful wishes between them all. Eliwood wasn’t expecting trouble, but just in case, Hector sent a small group of guards with them to bolster their numbers, to make up for the CEC’s absence – and a diplomat to check on the situation in Santaruz.

About an hour later, while Ceniro was going over the group’s supplies and provisions with George in preparation for their journey to the Western Isles, Freya came to them, frowning. “Have you seen Lady Renee?”

“No, not since I got here,” Ceniro said, frowning back. “Why?”

“I need her for duty roster discussions, and since she is a friend of yours, I thought she might be… I wonder where she is?”

“I’d help you look for her, but I think she’s just going to punch me again,” Ceniro said. “I keep not coming back to talk to her when she wants me to.” George chuckled.

Freya smiled slightly. “Yes, she can be a bit childish with her close friends. But she is a competent strategist…”

“Never said she wasn’t,” Ceniro said lightly. “All right. Maybe the farseer can help…”

A few moments later, and he confirmed that Renee was not within Castle Ostia. He couldn’t easily search Ostia City for her, there were too many people…

“She wouldn’t leave the castle while on duty unless it was an emergency,” Freya said, frowning in concern. “I’m going to inform Lord Hector-”

But at that moment, Matthew arrived at a run. “Ceniro! Oh, hi, Commander Freya. Both of you, you’re needed in the main hall, right now. The gist of it is – Lady Renee’s been kidnapped!”


	8. Episode 7: Old Schoolfellows

Episode 7: Old School-Fellows

Renee paced the floor in the upper chamber of the tower. “You said you wanted to talk, you jerkface! I thought you meant we’d go down to a pub like in the old days, not drag me all the way out to the Tanquet Pass fortress!”

“So you have been saying the last three days,” the tall armoured man said.

“Where have you even been, the last year? You resigned from Marquess Worde’s service and disappeared!”

“Marquess Worde could offer me nothing. I went back home, to Bern, and then to Khafti on a message from my friend there.” He gestured to the dark-cloaked man standing in the corner of the room. “But I want to know what you know about _him_.”

“Who?” Renee’s grey-green eyes narrowed as she rounded on him. “Not this again. You could have just asked him yourself, I heard he’s coming to Ostia with Marquess Pherae.”

“He is in Ostia. I saw him before I took you.”

“Then why am I here!?” She added more softly to herself: “And why in Elibe did he not come say hello, the twit?”

“Because I can no longer simply order the villain to tell me what he knows.”

“You mean corner him in the back yard and punch him in the gut until he tells you or passes out,” Renee snorted.

“He has surrounded himself with strong warriors and hides behind his noble friends like the rat that he is. In any case, we can speak freely here. Later I will isolate him and deal with him.”

“That’s not going to work,” Renee said – she couldn’t help it. If she wanted to protect Ceniro properly, she knew she ought to let this man go on underestimating him. On the other hand, if there was any chance this could be resolved before it came to violence, that would be nice. “He’s even better than when we were all students together. Like you said, he has strong and loyal allies. And he has-” She stopped.

“What is it?” he asked curiously.

“Let’s just say it’s impossible to surprise him or sneak up on him, and unless he’s being _very_ stupid, you’ll never isolate him, not even with your wyvern-riding cousin over there.”

“That’s why you’re here.” The man flashed a smile at her that had no amusement in it. “Angry people make mistakes. I’ve gotten him to do it before.”

“When it doesn’t backfire and make him do something even crazier that completely demolishes your plans! And you can’t hurt me. You won’t hurt me.”

“I don’t have to. You’re a decent strategist, Lady Renee, but far too easy to manipulate. I don’t know why Lord Uther hired you.”

Renee’s shoulders shook. “Oh, just give me a lance and I’ll make you eat those words myself! You – you poppycock!”

The man bowed mockingly. “Thank you for your assistance, Lady Renee. You have been most forthcoming.”

“Gnnarrgh!”

Ceniro burst into the great hall of Castle Ostia at a run. “What’s going on? Renee’s been kidnapped?”

“Hear for yourself,” Hector said, gesturing to an Ostian soldier whose face still had a sheen of sweat.

“Lady Renee’s been taken by an armed troop out of the city,” the guard said. “I wasn’t on duty yet when I heard her talking with someone, and it seemed friendly enough, but after she left the castle with that man, they were jumped in an alley by his allies and they stuffed her in a carriage and took her right out of the city!”

“You were following her?” Ceniro asked.

“I’m her friend, and something about that man didn’t sit right with me. But when I saw how many guards he had with them, I came back to raise the alarm. I can’t take on ten people all by myself!”

“You did rightly,” Hector assured him. “We’ll get her back. Do you know where they’re going?”

“I heard her say Tanquet Pass all indignant-like, so maybe there?”

“Right.” Hector’s eyes narrowed, thinking. “Who would steal my tactician?”

“Milton,” Ceniro said. “He’s done this.”

“Who?”

“He… was the senior apprentice of Lord Garlent when I was studying with him. Renee was in my year. We all know each other. Renee was kind to me. Milton… was not.”

“Why?” Hector’s eyes narrowed. “Because you were better than him?”

“No, I wasn’t at first. By the end I was, but he’s still quite good. No, because he’s the second son of some duke in Bern and to him I was worth less than the mud on his boots.”

“And how do you know it’s him?”

“I saw him a few days ago, before we took the package up north. And that would be how he got Renee out of the castle without a big alarm. He’d just ask. He considered her his equal, she being the daughter of some Ostian lord, right? So she was friendly with him too. She was always trying to get us to stop fighting.”

Hector shook his head. “An all-too-common story. All right. I still don’t know why he’d kidnap Renee, but it doesn’t matter. He’s abducted my vassal and I can’t stand for that.”

“Why not?” Ceniro asked. “Milton is an arrogant bully, but he’s not a murderer. I don’t know why he would kidnap her rather than just talk to her, but she’s not in any danger.”

Hector’s mouth formed a thin, hard line. “No, she’s my vassal. It doesn’t matter whether or not she’s currently in danger. No one messes with my people. I’m going to rouse the army. You don’t have to come, if you’d rather not give him the satisfaction of rising to what could be bait, but… if he’s good, we might need you. I’ll pay you.”

“You don’t have to pay me, Hector,” Ceniro said quietly. “We’re friends. If you want me to help you get Renee back, I’ll be right there.” He paused and added with a grin: “Of course, if you want the rest of my friends to come along, you’ll probably have to pay us. Though we’ll reduce our rates for you, of course.”

“What, they’re not wildly idealistic freedom fighters?” Hector grinned back. “Get them together, then. It’s three days to Tanquet Pass; if we move fast enough, we can catch them on the way.” He made to stride away, then hesitated and turned back. “Ceniro… you are his equal now, right?”

“I’m sure he’s improved over the last three years, just as I have. But I have the farseer, I have my group, and I have you and your army.” Ceniro smiled tightly. “I think we can handle this.”

They never caught up to Milton’s group, not even Florina and Fiora, who were sent scouting ahead of the group. But once they hiked up the pass to the fortress that guarded the top, the farseer pinged and Ceniro directed the group to slow while he assessed the situation.

The pass was a narrow dirt track through a wide green valley, once perhaps a glacial basin. It was still surrounded by glittering blue-white snowy peaks, but the bottom of the valley was filled with dark pines, green meadows, and tiny, ice-cold streams. At the top was a small fortress, watching where the road tipped over into lands nominally claimed by Etruria but in reality held by no one. He knew the area pretty well, ever since they’d had a field trip to try their skills in a new location. There was a crystalline lake visible to the east, the one that had captured his heart when he’d first seen it, and his first glimpse of pegasus knights wheeling in the sky above it…

Hector had brought maybe two hundred soldiers, hardly his full army, but certainly more than enough to deal with the sixty or so fighters the farseer showed within the fortress. There were maybe twenty more on the forested slopes of the pass, apparently hidden in the forest, although not to him; they would be no trouble to eliminate from the battle, even without killing them.

“The smartest thing for him to do would be to hole up in there,” Ceniro said to Hector and Freya. “We only have two fliers, Florina and Fiora. But sieges are boring…”

“So what will you do?” Hector said, almost vibrating with anticipation.

Ceniro looked up at the distant fortress and began to smile. “I’m going to mess with him.”

“He’s here,” Milton said, looking down from the castle wall. “Those are his pegasus knights. But… what is he doing?”

“What is he doing?” Renee rejoined huffily.

“I thought you said he was good, but this – this is a manoeuvre he made in his very first battle against me. My forward line will have no trouble making it back to the castle.”

“He’s trying to goad you into making a mistake,” the druid said. “Trying to get you to underestimate him.”

Milton snorted. “That won’t happen. But I had hoped Marquess Ostia would not arrive so quickly… Still, I can deal with him.”

“You attack him and he’s not going to be merciful,” Renee told him. “You should just send me out, and then he’ll let you go.”

Milton gave her a smile that was more snarl. “You know as well as I do that that is not true. But I won’t hurt Marquess Ostia. I have no quarrel with him. That peasant I can’t say as much for. We’re outnumbered, but we have the defensible position and childish taunts won’t get me out of it. And that infant never had the patience for sieges.”

“He did always say they were boring,” Renee agreed.

“He only has two fliers, if I see it correctly, and not an abundance of mages, although there are some archers among the Ostian Army. And if somehow the worst comes to the worst, Rovenna is standing by with Elspeth.” He turned to the druid. “Take her inside and find out what she knows. I’ll have to deal with this.”

“Hey! No! I want to watch!” Renee cried, but two soldiers grabbed her and dragged her back inside. The druid followed them.

Ceniro found that Milton’s rear-guard – or whatever they were – were not inclined to stick around and get pulled into battle, but feinted and tried to make sneak attacks from the trees while the main bulk of the army stuck to the road. So they – and Milton – weren’t completely crazy. Ceniro pretended to be concerned about them, sending the army in seemingly uncoordinated moves, all the while sending Caddie, Yens, George, Lyn, and Louise to pick them off as they could.

In truth, he wasn’t really looking forward to getting close to the castle. Milton had always done well in defensible positions, favouring strength and defense over anything else. Ceniro had always preferred speed and accuracy, but cracking the nut of the castle to use that speed and accuracy properly took some doing and he hated the uncertainty of it. And taking care of the Ostians as well… he almost wished it was just his band and Hector’s close companions. Then he could have properly let loose.

Perhaps a dozen of the enemy soldiers made it all the way back to the castle, and the gate closed.

So far, he had not been impressed by the boy’s strategies. Although he had somehow managed to eliminate nearly half the front line, the skittishness of the rest of the army he faced did not bode ill for him. The Ostian Army halted just out of arrowshot of the walls and Marquess Ostia stepped forward, followed closely by Commander Freya. “You! Your name’s Milton, right?”

“I see you’ve been informed about me,” Milton said. “Your strategist is safe enough, but I am not simply going to let her go and submit to your mercy.”

“Why the hell not?” Hector demanded. “I’ve been told you’re an arrogant bully, and I’m starting to believe it.”

Milton drew himself up. “You have been told so by an ignorant, low-born coward and I will defy you while he is here.”

There was a bit of a flurry off to the left, and Milton saw a Sacaean woman lunge out of the line. “Why you-”

“Hold on, Lyn,” said the ignorant, low-born coward standing next to her, and took a step forward himself. “So if I leave, will you let Renee go?”

“You are so naive to think that Lord Hector would let me go freely if I did so?”

“That’s right, I can’t,” Hector said. “You interfered with one of my people, you pay the price.”

“Then we have nothing more to say to each other, Lord Hector. You will not take me easily.”

“Is that so?” Hector said, grinning wolfishly. “I think you might be surprised.”

Milton smiled thinly himself. “I think you might be the one surprised. Archers, ready your bows.”

Ceniro called his orders, fading back into the thick of the army where he would be less likely singled out by a sniper from the walls. The first goal was to get inside the castle, possibly to clear the walls of hostile forces or at least distract them, and make it possible for the rest of the army to get inside. Milton would be on the lookout for Florina and Fiora to try anything, and while Milton wouldn’t have a farseer, he’d also be keeping track of Ceniro’s most powerful allies – which meant Lyn, Pent, Louise, Hector, and Freya about now. “Florina, Fiora, don’t get too close – that’s a lot of archers. I’ll send you in when it’s a little clearer. Lyn, stay with me for now too. Erk, I need you, Matthew, Rigel, Yens, George, and Wil to sneak around the back. Stay in the trees and look for a place where the wall is crumbling-”

“Oh, I got that fixed a few months ago,” Hector said. “There were bandits about that I had to take care of. Sorry.”

“All right,” Ceniro said. “Go around back anyway and I’ll help you find another way in. Pent! Cast a thunder Milton’s way, we want him thinking about us right here!”

The Santaruz churl had moved back out of the front lines, hiding behind the soldiers with actual armour instead of the Sacaean get-up he was parading around in. For some reason he wasn’t shouting out orders, although he did do some pointing, but the army began to advance on the castle anyway, shields high against arrows.

Another basic manoeuvre. But Renee had warned him that Ceniro had improved, and considering he had been unreasonably good before, nothing he was seeing would be what it was on the surface.

A bolt of anima lightning blasted him, sending immense energy coursing through him – or it would have, if he hadn’t had the foresight to use magic-mitigating Holy Water on his armour before the battle. He barely moved in response, brushing it off casually. Ceniro would have to try harder than that to take him out. In most of their battles, he hadn’t even come close to it.

He stared down at the spot where the boy stood beside Lord Hector, round face as youthful and gormless as it had ever been, and caught the flash of silver. He had something in his hands, something clearly magical. Was that what Renee had been talking about? Was that how he spoke to his forces without shouting across the battlefield?

It didn’t matter much. Milton could give his own orders without shouting, and if Ceniro’s tactics were not what they seemed, neither were his own. Not that he needed to make any overt moves yet. He had the defensible position. The ball was in Ceniro’s court to force his hand. He might not ultimately win this one, but winning wasn’t his objective. He’d get what he needed out of Renee and depart when he needed to.

And if he managed to snag Ceniro on the way out, so much the better.

“You’re being extra-cautious today,” Hector commented, sent forward with Freya, Oswin, and a number of other heavily armoured knights to draw fire away from Pent, who was now throwing all he had at the gates. Ceniro didn’t think they’d be able to take these gates down very quickly, even with Pent’s power, unlike the castle he had captured long ago in Caelin that had fallen to only Erk’s fireballs, back when Erk was still a novice. But it was worth a shot and bought time for his other team. “I know you said he’s good, but he’s really that good?”

Ceniro controlled a sigh of exasperation. “The last time we fought was still in training more than three years ago. I won, but not all my soldiers made it out ‘alive’. He does have the advantage here, even though we have the numbers. I’m not fond of the situation.”

He frowned at the armoured figure on the distant walls, and the archers that stood on either side of him. “And on top of that, I have to keep a balance in my strategy between being simple enough to persuade him to underestimate me, while being challenging enough for him not to suspect any traps… and throwing in enough references to unsettle him. And he’s going to be doing exactly the same thing.”

He glanced down at the farseer and his eyes widened. “Erk! Don’t take another step!”

“Whoa, what!?”

“There’s a minefield back there. You remember how we took down Limstella? Milton’s got a bunch of those around the back of the castle. I only saw them when you got closer.”

“So what do we do?” Wil asked tightly. “I don’t see anything and now I’m scared to step anywhere.”

“There aren’t any behind you,” Ceniro reassured him. “Just don’t go forward.”

“I could use dark magic to set them off before we cross this area,” Rigel said, though her voice was frightened still.

“Neat idea, but setting them off would probably not be a good idea, even if you’re not standing on them. Milton will know you’re coming…”

“If I might, I know how to disarm these,” Matthew spoke up. “Lord Hector made me study them after he found out you left one in your pocket for two months, so I’m reasonably certain I can do it safely. It’s locating them that’s the hard part…”

“True,” Ceniro said. “And then we can use them to blow a hole in the castle wall.” He glanced at Hector. “Is that okay?”

“Sounds great!” Hector said enthusiastically. “I wanna see that.”

“You’ll just have to get it fixed again, and it’ll be expensive…”

“Do it.”

Ceniro shrugged. “All right. Should be two feet in front of Erk and slightly to the right. Then, there’s one by the oak nearer to the wall. There’s about five more beyond that, but that should do for a start.”

“Indeed,” Matthew said drily. “All right, folks, sit tight, I’ll have this done soon.”

“So, to go back to what we were talking about earlier,” Hector said, batting an arrow aside with the Wolf Beil, “do all tacticians play mind games like that?”

Ceniro didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes, definitely, even if they don’t realize it. And especially when we know each other.”

“Damn.”

“No wonder you didn’t mind running around hearing everyone’s problems in camp,” Fiora said, also listening in.

“No, that’s just me. I know of some tacticians who don’t know the names of any of the soldiers under their command. I didn’t want to be like that.”

“And that’s why you’re so obsessed with your perfect survival record,” Lyn said.

“Yes, indeed, among other reasons. Matthew, you about done?”

“Yep. Where do you want this? Anywhere on the wall?”

“Yes. Go ahead. Rigel, set it off when everyone’s at a safe distance. Cover your ears!”

The mines hadn’t gone off. He could have sworn Ceniro would try to send a group behind the castle to look for an alternate way in. After all, without siege equipment, the most they could do was throw Elfires at the gate with that undeniably powerful Sage. He had been trying to get his archers to bring the Sage down, but the woman beside him was firing back with terrifying accuracy – he himself had been forced to dodge once or twice – and a rather small but stocky man with an axe was shielding him, and if that man was so much as scratched with an arrow, there was a pink-haired cleric behind them all ready to heal.

Still, the mines hadn’t gone off, and that seemed odd…

An explosion rocked the castle, shook the very stones he stood on. Finally, they had gone off… but the castle shouldn’t shake like that, even with the proximity of the mines to the wall…

He turned to see a giant smoke cloud obscuring the eastern wall, and as it cleared, five lithe figures sneaking through a large gap in the stones, one of them already throwing fireballs everywhere. They had somehow stolen the mines and used them to destroy part of the castle.

That… was unexpected. Clever, even. But, he could adapt to this. And in fact, let Ceniro’s – Marquess Ostia’s army dare to enter. Ceniro would have to commit. He might finally lose some of his forces. He might even lose friends. From what he heard, he had been basically unchallenged ever since he began wandering like a vagabond across the continent. Losing a friend or two would shatter that fragile psyche, make him finally realize that he was dealing with forces that were too big for him. Forces that only a man raised to war could truly deal with.

“Now it gets interesting,” he said to himself, and went down to face the five – a small boy wielding fire and lightning, another boy with a bow, two older men with sword and lance, and a mere girl – probably the healer. Half the archers turned from the forces outside to focus on the group inside. They would be wiped out.

“Now it gets complicated,” Ceniro said. Milton had left the wall, and he could see on the farseer that he was moving to engage Yens. “Watch out for the archers! Yens, be careful there. He’s as good at swords and lances as he is at tactics. Matthew, get the gate open for us! Wil, cover him!” Six against sixty was insanity, even for him. But now Milton wasn’t watching the front, which meant – “Lyn, get around the back with those twenty soldiers! Hug the wall, don’t go near the remaining mines. Serra, hit the archers on the wall! Keep them off Rigel!”

“The gate’s stuck,” Matthew panted, straining at something. “You might have damaged it too much…”

“Pent, blow that open now! Erk, also target the gate! Rigel, keep Milton back from the rest of you! Freya, Frank, Andy, Kent, Sain, get ready to charge to the rescue. Florina, Fiora, come in from the north and buzz the walls!”

Pent cast, blue lights and runes flickering around him, and the gate erupted in a blaze of light. It seemed that jarred loose whatever was broken, and the burning remains of it shot up into the gatehouse. Matthew grunted as he fell back on his butt. At last Ceniro could send in the cavalry, and Hector led the charge of the rest of the army. Milton was swept away from Yens and George by Freya’s charge and was retreating to the narrow steps up the side of the keep. But the cavalry had to lose their momentum in the narrow yard, especially with so many allies present, and he struck back at her with his lance, stabbing her in the side under the armour and knocking her from her horse.

“Freya!” Hector shouted, and threw himself at the stairs after Milton as Erk hurried to Freya’s side. Ceniro didn’t bother to tell Hector to be careful. He’d given enough warnings about Milton’s skill, and Hector was good enough Ceniro trusted he could hold his own. Sain and Frank had dismounted and were coming after him, although the stairs were narrow enough that wouldn’t help Hector much.

Hector had almost chased Milton to the top of the stairs when Milton shouted for someone and a druid appeared out of the keep above. Hector’s eyes widened and he braced himself as a spell began to form around him.

“Serra!” Ceniro called; her light magic would be the best counter to the dark magic, and she began to run from the other side of the courtyard from where she had been helping Oswin with a sword wound. But both Milton and the druid were pulling back, leaving Hector pale and leaning on the wall from the effects of the spell. “Leave him, let’s secure the rest of the courtyard!”

Hector jumped from the wall, hardly heeding Serra’s healing spell on him. “Freya! Are you all right!?”

His commander was standing, healed by Erk’s staff, looking a little more frazzled than usual. “I’m fine, Lord Hector. You didn’t need to challenge him yourself.”

“I was… worried,” Hector muttered, not meeting her eyes.

“I think we have this under control,” Ceniro said. “Kent, Oswin, move into the keep, there are still soldiers who haven’t surrendered in there! That wyvern rider’s still around somewhere!”

Ceniro’s forces were overrunning his own. “Did you find out what we needed?” he asked Vellith sharply as they ducked back under the arch and up the stairs to the rooftop.

“Some. Not enough. She doesn’t know what he was doing with Lord Eliwood.”

“Then we need to get out of here. Perhaps we can still nab him on the way. We’ll have to watch out for that blonde sniper. Rovenna?”

“Right here, my lord.”

Milton swung astride the wyvern she held for him, while she and Vellith shared her own. “Watch for the pegasus knights. They were still active around the south end of the castle last I saw, but it’s not a big castle.”

“Right behind you, my lord.”

Massive scaly wings snapped open on either side of him and heaved.

“He’s mounted a wyvern,” Ceniro said, still standing outside the gate. “Taking off from the north side of the castle with the wyvern rider. Florina, Fiora, chase them, take them down if possible. Andy, Frank, find Renee!”

He stared in disbelief at the farseer, then glanced at the sky. “What is he doing!?” A green-winged shape was rushing at him.

Louise shoved him to the ground bodily, just in time – an immense gust of air and a whooshing sound told him that he had escaped being run over by the narrowest of margins. He had an intense impression of massive claws, and then the wyvern was gone again, picking up altitude to clear the trees behind him and the mountains behind that. “Louise?”

A grunt from Louise, a twang, a sigh. “I nicked the wyvern’s leg, but I’m afraid he got away.”

Lyn helped Ceniro pick himself up again. “He knew he had too few people here to face Hector, but he stuck out this long anyway. Why?”

“Maybe Renee can tell us,” Lyn said. “Have they found her yet?”

“I-I found someone,” Rigel said, and Ceniro checked the farseer. It did look like Renee. “H-hello, my name is Rigel, and I’m with, um, Ceniro, I guess…”

“It’s about time!” Renee answered, sounding irritated, but then she softened her voice. “I’m sorry, Miss Rigel. I’m Renee. It’s very nice to meet you, and I’m grateful that you came looking for me. …Now take me to that idiot so I can give him a piece of my mind!”

Ceniro sighed and chuckled. “I’m in for it now. Lyn, can I hide behind you?”

“Nope, you take your beating like a man,” Lyn said cheerfully. “Whatever she’s mad at you for, you probably deserve it.”

“You are the most supportive of girlfriends,” Ceniro said, and Hector barked a laugh.

“Of course she is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lyn retorted, but she and Hector were both grinning.

Ceniro shook his head and went off to meet Renee.

They met in the courtyard of the small castle, and the first thing she did after she marched up to him was punch him in the chest. Again.

“I know, I know,” Ceniro wheezed, feeling the bruised spot. “I didn’t come back last year.”

“Why? Not?” Renee demanded. “You are the most selfish and thoughtless of people, you know, and I don’t even know why I care, you idiot…”

He grabbed her hand – she seemed to be getting a bit too upset. “Renee, I’m really sorry. I actually went straight back to Sacae with Lyn. I completely forgot, and by the time I remembered, it was awkward…”

Renee pouted. “Well, better late than never, they say, but send a stupid letter, next time!”

“I am going to be writing so many letters this year,” he muttered to himself. “So why was Milton here? Why did he kidnap you?”

Renee inhaled furiously and stamped her foot. “It’s all about you again with that man, as usual. He wants to know what you know about something? He’s looking for something… something important, powerful, with his druid friend and his wyvern-rider cousin, and it’s something that you know about, and it’s something connected to Lord Eliwood.”

Ceniro traded a glance with Hector, Lyn, and Pent. “He knows.”

“About the thing?” Pent said. “It sounds like it. But he won’t find Eliwood’s. Not the way I sealed it. I doubt it will be able to be found until the whole elder ripple thing blows over.”

Renee frowned. “You’re talking in riddles on purpose, aren’t you?”

“I’m afraid so,” Pent said cheerfully. “Never know who’s listening who shouldn’t be.”

“Did you find out anything else?” Hector asked. “Maybe where he’s been looking?”

“I think he was in northern Ostia a few weeks ago, but he didn’t find anything. I think he’s going back to Bern next.”

“Who’s his druid friend?”

“Someone named Vellith, from Khafti…” Renee said, and Rigel gasped.

“Vellith – ooh, that jerk! The head of my chapter told him to stay home because it was my mission!”

“You’re also from Khafti?” Renee asked.

“I am. He’s my older brother. If he steals another thesis from me, I will kick his butt!”

Ceniro laughed and turned it into a cough. “Well, good to know, we can use that against him. Does he know you’re with me?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, though.”

“I don’t think there was much else,” Renee said. “I couldn’t tell them much. I couldn’t help telling him a lot about you – I was trying to get him to give up without fighting, but it didn’t really work. I didn’t think it would, but I wanted to try… And I think he knows about your farseer tool now.”

“All right,” Ceniro said. “Then he knows I’m just a little bit more dangerous. Perhaps he’ll try to make his own.”

“Well,” Hector said, “this is all very well and good, but I’m famished. It’s time to start heading back.”

“What about the… hole in the wall?” Ceniro asked.

Hector looked at it and grinned, running a hand through his short blue hair. “It’s pretty awesome. Makes it a bit less effective as a castle, however. Maybe I’ll send Matthew out to pick up all the unused mines, and figure out where I’m going to get the funds to fix it this time. That hole’s quite a bit bigger than the little crack that we had before.”

“Sorry,” Ceniro said.

“No apologizing! That was a pretty great explosion. You must have been able to see the dust from clear over the mountains!” Hector turned back around and frowned at the grey-haired woman. “And while I’m at it… Renee, you’ve been complaining about not being able to keep track of Ceniro. Well, I’m going to grant one of your wishes. You’re going to go along with him and help him on his quest.”

Renee started. “What? My lord.”

“Okay,” Ceniro said. “I can use her help.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Renee said. “Why?”

“Why not?” Hector said. “You want to keep an eye on him, he could use your help, you can report back to me on occasion – in coded language, please. Matthew will help you with that. Ceniro, I’d send Matthew himself, but I kind of need him in Ostia right now. Can’t do without him.”

“I’m flattered, my lord,” Matthew said, only a little drily. “You only threaten to kill me once a week these days, instead of every day.”

“But the garrison-”

“Freya’s got everything under control. If one of the lords starts getting uppity, I might recall you, assuming Ceniro’s group can even be found, but we’ll muddle through somehow.”

Renee shook her head ruefully, forehead wrinkling. “Well, all right. I bow to your wishes, my lord. And… thank you.”

“That’s all right.”

“No… thank you for coming to get me. It’s very kind of you, Lord Hector.”

“Hey, no one messes with my people. Right, Oswin, Freya?”

“Exactly right, sir,” Oswin said, saluting. Freya nodded.


	9. Episode 8: Conscience Flying

Episode 8: Conscience Flying

He had arrived unnanounced at Lord Garlent’s estate on the edge of Ostia City, a short, thin teenager about sixteen years old, with nothing more than the clothes on his back and a letter of introduction in his pocket. He hovered a few hundred feet away from the front gate for more than an hour, trying to work up the nerve to go on, until a guardsman told him to get lost and blushing ferociously, headed for the entrance.

The tall footman looked at the letter of introduction, looked him up and down several times more than was strictly necessary, looked at the letter again, and walked away into the house with nothing more than a curt “wait here” which did nothing to sooth his nerves.

In a few minutes, he returned, and gestured for Ceniro to follow him, in out of the September wind at last. He was brought through tall passages to an austere study, dark grey with burgundy drapes and hard-looking ornate wooden furniture.

The famous Lord Garlent sat at his desk, writing busily. He didn’t look up as the footman escorted Ceniro in and left him there, afraid even to fidget as he stood ten feet away from the desk, an insignificant lump in the middle of this cold grandeur.

“So you’re Venedan’s star pupil,” Garlent said without looking up still. “You’re not much to look at, but we’ll see what we can make of you.”

Ceniro didn’t know if he was supposed to say anything, so remained silent.

Garlent looked sharply up at him. “Cat got your tongue, boy?”

“Yes sir- I mean, no, sir.”

Garlent snorted. “We’ll have to do something about that attitude if you’re going to be even a moderately good commander.”

 _What attitude?_ He wasn’t giving any attitude, not right now. “Yes, sir.”

Now Garlent sighed. “A strategist must always be confident, boy. Even when facing a new teacher. Be off with you; find your rooms. There’ll be some-” he looked Ceniro up and down, “-proper clothes there for you, too. Didn’t your scholarship extend to necessities like that?”

“No, sir.”

“Fine, then. Go away. Your training starts tomorrow.”

Ceniro turned and haltingly fled from the room, his heart beating fast. So that was one challenge down… now to find these ‘rooms’ he was supposed to be in. …And that meant probably asking someone. Terrifying.

But there were servants everywhere, even if they looked at him doubtfully. Maybe a girl would be less scary to ask…? No, definitely not, even if they weren’t so tall and imposing, a girl would be ten times more scary to ask. He found a male servant and asked for the student rooms. The servant looked skeptical, but gave him directions into a whole other wing of the castle.

Hoping fervently that they were the right directions and not a wild goose chase, he set off in that direction. He wasn’t afraid of getting lost. He had a pretty good sense of direction, even inside huge buildings that he’d never been in before.

He arrived at what looked like the right place, an arched corridor with thick blue carpet underfoot, a line of large, expensive windows on one side, and a line of thick wooden doors on the other. Now to find which one was his… Ah! There was another student! At least, he hoped he was another student. He was tall and imposing, with a stern, square-jawed face and a slightly cleft chin, short-cut chestnut hair, and a perpetual frown over brown eyes. He was dressed in fine clothes and carried a sword. But there was no one else in the corridor to ask, so…

“Um – um, e-excuse me-”

“What is it, sirrah? You appear to be lost. The servants’ quarters are in the other wing. Get going and I won’t tell the steward.”

“N-n-no, I’m, you see-”

“You bumbling yokel, I have no time for you. What is your name?”

“I-I’m a student here, too, um, I’m new…”

“A student?” If possible, the man’s face grew more thunderous. “You mock me, sirrah.”

“N-no, sir. I’m a transfer f-from Lord Venedan.”

“Impossible. The only students at the Academy are noble-born and _you_ are nothing of the sort. Cease this prank immediately and get off to the servants’ quarters.”

Ceniro squared his shoulders and stood his ground. “I _am_ a student! I have a scholarship! I just want to know where my room is!”

The other man had begun shouting back at him before he had even finished speaking, and probably didn’t hear the last part of his sentence. “What sort of fool do you take me for!?” His baritone voice was well-suited to shouting orders across a battlefield, Ceniro noted. “You mock the very vocation of strategist by your presence in this house! I will turn you into the street-”

“Hey!” yelled a woman’s voice, and they both turned to see a grey-haired girl coming out of another room. She wasn’t any taller than Ceniro, but her posture and clothes marked her as high-born, a magenta jacket and black tights. She looked annoyed, but that annoyance changed into surprise. “What’s all the yelling- oh, hi, you’re Ceniro, right? From Lord Venedan’s class! I remember you! I mean, you’re hard to forget, being the only non-noble there. So you made it!”

“Lady Renee, this is an outrage,” began the other man.

Renee shrugged. “He got good marks, Lord Milton. Really good, even. Why don’t you wait and see how he does here?”

“I am insulted,” hissed the man, and turned with a swirl of his cloak to stalk past Ceniro and down the hall towards the exit, bodychecking Ceniro on the way and sending him stumbling into the wall.

Renee was looking at him with a mixture of apology and curiosity. “He’s very proud, I think. Son of a duke of Bern, come here specifically to study with Lord Garlent… I got here yesterday, and talked a bit with him over dinner. He’s not so bad, really, but he’s the senior student here and I think he wants everyone to know it. So I guess keep out of his way.”

“Um.” Ceniro was too shell-shocked to say anything else. “Where’s my room?”

Renee rolled her eyes at him. “You’re on the end, right over there…”

“Ceniro?”

He blinked and came back to the present. Renee was leaning over him, grey hair falling over her face. “Hi?”

“The boat’s about ready to go. You having a moment, there?”

“Just remembering the first time I properly met you and Milton. I was such a mouse, then.”

“Yes, you are,” Renee said cheerfully. “Before that, too. You were always in the back of Lord Venedan’s classes like a loser.”

He laughed ruefully. “A bit.”

“Why did you join tactics classes?” Rigel asked. “How did you get there?”

“Scholarship,” Ceniro said. “I did so well in elementary school that I went for more school instead of taking an apprenticeship, and I did so well in that school that when I was fifteen, they paid for me to go to Ostia. They got a grant from Lord Helman, I think, since my grades were so good. I don’t really remember how I ended up in Lord Venedan’s class… but I don’t remember any of my other classes hooking me like that.”

The captain of the ship taking them to Fibernia signalled them, and Ceniro rose and got into line with the others to board the ship. They’d had to travel quietly through part of Etruria to reach the port of Massa, and Pent and Louise kept their heads covered while they journeyed. Hector had funded them for the first part of their journey and wished them luck finding Durban’s cave. Sain had stayed in Ostia, preparing to make the journey back to Caelin by himself, assuring them that he would be fine. “I am a bold knight of Caelin, and my passion and fire will see me through any obstacle in my path back to my most beautiful lady Salir! But I’m not expecting any trouble. It’s been a good year for that. Have fun on your adventure!”

“But your temperament,” Louise said. “If you were really so shy back then…”

“He was definitely shy,” Renee said. “Shy isn’t even the word for it. Snail-like, perhaps, hiding from everything and everyone.”

“And the danger! Didn’t you worry about how it would work out?”

“It did work out, though,” Andy said.

“It’s true,” Ceniro said. “On the one hand, I’d have to talk to actual people – tell them what to do, even. On the other hand, the intellectual side of it appealed to me very much! On the other other hand, there was always the risk of my companions or me getting killed…”

“Yes, you should stop with the ‘getting killed’ part,” Fiora said. “That’s at least twice you’ve almost done it. It’s very stressful for the rest of us.”

“Even more if you count the first time I met him,” Lyn said. “And probably more that we don’t know about.”

“There was that one time just in training!” Renee said. “I agree with Lady Fiora. Stop doing that.”

“Sorry,” Ceniro said. “But on the other other other hand, I’d hopefully get to travel, which was something that I was finding I wanted to do, and probably job security as well. But it took me forever to figure out the mercenary angle, didn’t it?”

“Everyone else in our class was going to work for Marquesses and lords,” Renee said. “I can’t say I blame you for thinking that was the only real career option.”

“I almost figured it out when I joined Lyn,” Ceniro said, smiling at his girlfriend, “but then she turned out to be nobility as well so I didn’t quite put the pieces together.”

“You silly!” Lyn cried, and the ship cast off from the dock and they headed out into the foggy waters to Fiburnia.

The Western Isles were colder than most of the rest of Elibe, excepting perhaps Ilia, even in the height of summer. Still, Ceniro had never been, and looked around at the unfamiliar landscape with eager eyes. The landscape was mountainous, but old, worn mountains, craggy from the abuse of wind and weather; it was mostly brown with dry grasses, on which sheep grazed freely. There were few trees, at least on the road up to Jutes, the capital, where they were going to begin their search for Durban’s cave. But there were many icy-cold streams and small ponds, reflecting the sky with a silvery gleam. The locals were so odd, compared to what Ceniro had experienced on the rest of the continent. They were tough and hardy, which was hardly unusual in itself, but then with their accent, and the strange clothes they wore – everyone seemed to be wearing skirts, even the men.

In fact, the accents reminded him of Bartre. Was Bartre from the Western Isles?

Jutes was not a very large city, but they entered it without any fuss and stayed there for a couple nights while Ceniro and Pent used the farseer’s records and the city records to try to locate Durban’s cave. Hector hadn’t seen much of the countryside outside of the cave, in fact, only the briefest of glimpses, and Ceniro felt like he shouldn’t be too jealous that Hector had been able to visit the Isles before he had. Hector would probably never get the chance again, either, which would have made Ceniro a little sad, except that he knew Hector had no real interest in wandering like he did. The marquess didn’t mind staying in his homeland of Ostia, as long as he occasionally got to see his close friends and have a good fight now and then.

But Ceniro was enjoying himself, despite his lingering worry over the Legendary Weapons and Milton’s knowledge of them.

On the second day, Pent decided they should head west from Jutes and hope for the best. “Your records show that the cave is highly sulphurous, and that could be a number of places in the mountain range about three days’ journey from here.”

“You’re also enjoying this,” Ceniro accused him.

Pent smiled as he bounced Klein on his knee. “Of course I am. It’s starting to properly remind me of when we were searching for the jewel. Of course, we won’t get much of a chance to do more research here – the library is not extensive at all, and there’s only one here. It seems most local knowledge is passed on by word of mouth, through folktales and stories, and that’s the sort of research that takes even longer to decipher than the regular ‘I have no idea what this book says but I think it’s important’ research.”

“I see,” Ceniro said, even though he didn’t really. “Well, maybe we’ll get to do more research in… Ilia? I doubt Sacae has more written records of Murgleis, but the Ilians might know something of Maltet.”

“I hope so,” Pent said. “And isn’t Canas from Ilia? Perhaps we can look him up, or even his mother Niime! I’m sure he can help us.”

Ceniro smiled at Pent’s enthusiasm. “That would be great, but we have a long way to go before Ilia.”

“I know,” Pent said. “But we can set out tomorrow, rain or shine.” Klein burbled and Pent looked down, taking Klein’s tiny hands gently in his own and waving them back and forth.

Wil burst into their room, closely followed by Erk and Caddie. The first two looked excited, while Caddie just looked confused. “Ceniro! You’ll never guess who we just met!”

“Bartre,” Ceniro guessed, and was rewarded with Wil’s deflated look.

“How did you know?”

“I was thinking earlier, his accent sounded like the people here. Where is he?”

“He’s downstairs, we brought him back from the marketplace with us, and guess who’s with him?”

“Karla,” Pent guessed, and Wil laughed ruefully.

“I guess that’s not a big surprise. So I kind of told them we were on a quest, and they offered to come with us.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Ceniro said. “Let’s go talk to them!”

“Who are these people?” Caddie asked.

“Friends of ours from the journey last year,” Erk assured him.

“Ceniro!” Bartre boomed when Ceniro came down the stairs. “What brings you out to my lonely old corner of Elibe? Some kind of quest, hey?”

“It’s nice to see you again,” Karla said quietly, still as graceful a contrast as ever to Bartre’s recklessness.

“Yes, that’s exactly right. It’s nice to see you again, too! I didn’t really realize you were from the Western Isles until I got here. How have you been?”

“We’ve been fine,” Karla said. “We heard about you in Sacae, but our paths never crossed.”

“You were in Sacae too?” Lyn asked.

“We went there to see the place, since Karlie’s from there,” Bartre said. “Not really my kind of place. It’s… too open.”

“I would have thought it was very similar to here,” Lyn teased. “Lots of sky, lots of grass, lots of wind…”

“Yeah, but there’s too much sky. Even where there’s hills, the hills aren’t the same. And there’s lots of grass, but it smells different and there aren’t any sheep. And there’s lots of wind, but it’s not the cold, clear, bracing air of freedom!”

Lyn snorted. “It smells plenty free enough to me.”

Karla smiled. “And to me. But while my brother and his apprentice stayed in Sacae, we came here, so that I could see Bartre’s home. It’s been… very interesting.”

“I bet,” Wil said.

“How’s your duel coming?” Fiora asked.

Karla and Bartre looked at each other. “Um,” Bartre said sheepishly.

“We haven’t really duelled in a few months,” Karla said. “We fight sometimes, yes, but that’s a different story.”

Lyn giggled. “I bet it is. But I guess you’re still tied, then?”

“We’re pretty tied, yeah,” Bartre said, and Lyn giggled harder. “What? I don’t get it. We’ll pick it up again in a bit, now that you’ve reminded us. Anyway, to important things! You want some extra muscle on your journey?”

“We wouldn’t mind at all,” Ceniro said, smiling. “You’re most welcome to join us. We’re going to be heading west tomorrow, to the mountains. We’ll explain then.”

“Today we’re going to be doing exercises,” Garlent said to his three pupils, all lined up in a row. Ceniro’s clothes were a lot nicer than he had any right to be wearing, and they weren’t patched _anywhere_ , but they were too big for him and he felt clumsy. “You’ll each get to fight two matches; we’ll do one now and two in the afternoon. Milton, Ceniro, you two will be first up.”

Ceniro froze, eyes wide, trying not to scream. His very first training battle for real, with real people and not just advanced chess, against the senior student who already hated him? He was going to be crushed utterly. Even at his best, this was all so new, he didn’t know what he was doing, he could try to defeat Milton’s people but Milton already knew what he was doing…

Garlent was oblivious to Ceniro’s shock, or ignored it, and so did the others. “Right, on back to the yard with you.”

Because Lord Garlent’s estate was on the edge of town, just outside the main wall of the city, even, he had a large field that he called the ‘yard’. Because of his position as a master strategist and a teacher of strategists, he maintained a small army of soldiers and mercenaries, some of whom were permanent employees of his house, some of whom worked for a time and then left again.

Milton and Ceniro called their soldiers, alternating between them, and Milton snorted disdainfully after half of Ceniro’s decisions. Well, it wasn’t his fault, he didn’t know who fought well yet!

They deployed, and Ceniro dithered over whether he should use his usual mid-range formation or go with the tight wedge of soldiers that Milton had set up already. Milton was muttering under his breath by the time Ceniro said he was ready.

Garlent blew a whistle, and Milton immediately began barking orders; his forces began to advance on Ceniro’s in an orderly, purposeful fashion. Ceniro’s soldiers shifted impatiently, unable to move by Garlent’s rules until Ceniro gave orders.

Ceniro swallowed, trying not to hyperventilate, trying to remember how to tell these people what to do. This was so different from chess, he couldn’t see anything, and he himself counted as a combatant so he had to be on the field where he couldn’t see anything, and he was going to get killed really quickly… “Um, so, um, let’s…”

“Act!” Garlent shouted down at him. “Act! Do something, anything, and let’s see what you’re made of!”

Right now, he was made of jelly, but he managed to give something resembling orders. “Um, ah, you guys move forwards, and, um, can you guys, um, maybe move over to the left…”

Then Milton’s units were charging his own, tagging his soldiers out with ruthless efficiency. Ceniro cried out as he was knocked down by a big man with a huge shield and tagged out.

Garlent blew his whistle again. “What was that, boy!? You call that a strategy?”

Ceniro got up, ego and body bruised. “We never had live exercises in class!” he shouted.

“Is that how you speak to Lord Garlent, you worthless scum!?” Milton cried.

“Shut up, Milton,” Garlent said. “I still have no idea how you perform, boy, so you’d better impress me in your match against Renee this afternoon. In any case, we’re obviously going to have to start from the beginning with you. Go see the medic for that head wound and get lunch.”

Humiliated, Ceniro stumbled off the field, ignoring Milton’s disdainful glare.

There was some time between lunch – he ate very little and was done very quickly – and his match with Renee, so he went down to the soldier barracks. If he wasn’t going to wash out on day one of the thing he really wanted to do, he’d have to take some initiative.

He hated initiative. But initiative made a good strategist, right?

There were enough soldiers hanging around outside their barracks that he didn’t have to go inside to talk to any of them. Some of them saw him coming, and snickered to each other, but he doggedly kept going.

“You want something, sir?” asked one of the soldiers, a fairly young man, maybe his own age. And he didn’t seem to be sneering the way some of the older ones were.

“I, um, hi.” How to explain…? “I want to know more about the fighters here, so I can do better this afternoon. I’m really sorry about this morning.”

The young soldier shrugged. “It’s your first day. I guess it’s not really your thing, huh?”

“No, I want to do this, but I… wasn’t prepared. So now I’m preparing. So, um, if you don’t mind, can you tell me about yourself?”

“Haha! What’s there to tell? My name’s Fernandez, I’m eighteen years old, and I fight with the lance. I’m not very good yet, I’m training under Captain Horton over there. He’s really good. He fights with the lance and axe. Is that the kind of thing you want to know, sir?”

“Yes, please,” Ceniro said. “Maybe can you introduce me to some people? It will make it easier to give… orders.”

“Man, you really are shy, aren’t you, sir? How old are you?”

Ceniro blushed and ducked his head. “Sixteen.”

“Wow. You’re pretty young, and you’re- you’re not a lord, like most of the students I hear go through here. Okay, so where to start? Well, I guess with the people I know!”

Ceniro spent the next hour just learning the names of the people he would be working with, trying to figure out who he ought to take, bearing in mind that Renee would get to pick half of them. He had also been thinking about what happened in the morning, where Milton had put his units, how to avoid getting immediately pulverized again. Renee would have a completely different style, he knew, but the more thinking he did at this point, the better.

Too soon, it was time for match number two.

“Good luck!” Renee called from across the field. “Fight hard! I’m not going to go easy on you, you know!”

“O-okay,” Ceniro said, deploying his people a bit differently than in the morning in response to what she had put down. Garlent raised his eyebrows before he blew his whistle.

He lasted longer this time, and had actually managed to make some rudimentary semblance of an encirclement, taking out maybe a third of Renee’s troops, before he ran out of enough people to fight effectively with – and then like before, it turned into a bit of a ‘slaughter’. He got hit by a padded arrow and flinched. Garlent called an end.

This time, the look he turned on Ceniro was not so harsh. “Not bad. I see you used your time wisely. You have potential and we’ll get it out of you yet. You may go.”

Ceniro nodded awkwardly and turned to go while Garlent congratulated Renee and told her to prepare for her match against Milton.

She caught up to him a minute later. “Hey, you didn’t freeze up this time, nice. Here.” She thrust something towards him, he took it blindly, and she ran off.

It was a cookie, wrapped in a napkin. For the first time that day, a smile crept over his face, and he munched on it happily.

It turned out to be raining the next day, which was fairly normal for the Western Isles. They set off anyway, cloaks wrapped around them, and kept to the road for the day. “People are a bit territorial around here,” Bartre said. “You wander onto someone’s grazing grounds for their sheep, they’re as likely to shoot you or stab you as anything. It might not look like much, but… it’s home to someone, and they don’t like strangers.”

“I like the view,” Ceniro said. “I don’t think it ‘doesn’t look like much’, personally.”

“Even in this rain?” Erk asked, sneezing.

“Yes,” Ceniro said. “It makes everything look like it’s covered in a silver veil.”

“That’s a right fancy way to put it,” Bartre said. “Never heard this place described so pretty, really.”

“You speak truly, Ceniro,” Karla said. “And when you say those things, it reminds me to look around as well, to see this place as it truly is. To see this place as the people who live here must see it.”

“I don’t think we see it like that,” Bartre said. “It’s raining and mucky. But it’s _our_ rain, dammit!”

Karla smiled. “If you say so.”

They hiked higher into the mountains, and the rain stayed grey and cold all day. It rained through the night and was still raining the next day, when Bartre finally let them leave the path to explore the mountains for Durban’s cave. But around noon, it began to clear up, until at last they saw the edge of the cloud heading eastwards and the sun burst from the edge of it, lighting up the entire landscape in brilliant gold against the still-dark clouds in the distance. There was a double rainbow.

“That’s good luck!” Wil cried.

“So pretty,” Florina said, holding his hand for a moment, and he put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed.

Ceniro wasn’t much help in the search; he couldn’t help looking out over the valleys they had come from, surveying the view with wonder and appreciation. The cold wind rustled the damp grasses, and sheep bleated in the distance, and the constantly changing clouds cast ever-shifting shadows against the sun-spotted ground in the distance. Pent took the farseer from him and threatened to leave him behind if he dawdled too long.

Ceniro just grinned. “This is why I travel. You go do your thing. I’ll catch up.”

“I’ll call you if we need you,” Pent said cheerfully, and left him and Lyn standing on a ledge on the mountainside.

Lyn took his hand. “Good thing we had to come, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s beautiful. I’m glad I got to see this. It should really be a painting. But you’d need someone who can paint really fast… I don’t know how painting works.”

“Neither do I,” Lyn said. “Sacaean art doesn’t tend towards capturing moments in that way. It’s much more symbolic. We don’t do… landscapes like Etrurians do.”

Ceniro forbore to make a crack about how Sacaean landscapes would all look the same anyway. “Well, Etruria has some nice views too. I’ll take you to see some when we go in search of Aureola.”

“This is all a big holiday for you, isn’t it?” she teased.

“Sure! I’m the laziest person in Elibe. All I do is walk around and look at stuff.” The rainbow was fading, and he reluctantly turned to continue up the mountainside, still holding her hand.

Lyn laughed. “You do a tiny bit more than that. Sometimes you yell stuff or point at stuff.”

He laughed in return. “There might be some of that involved. Wow, how far ahead did Pent get? I can’t see them at all-”

“Hello, Ceniro!” said Pent’s voice in his ear, and he jumped about a foot.

“That is really disconcerting,” Ceniro said. “How do you guys stand it when I do it to you?”

“Practice,” Lyn and Pent said at the same time, and Ceniro heard a chorus of other voices through what must be the farseer’s magic.

“Fair enough,” he said with a chuckle. “So how do I find you?”

“We found the cave,” Pent said. “I’ll guide you in. Haha, I am the master tactician now, aren’t I, Klein?”

Ceniro and Lyn giggled as they moved faster to join up with their friends again.

“Well, I mean, if you don’t accomplish your objective, what’s the point?” Renee said, sitting on the wall overlooking the yard with him. “There’s a term called ‘acceptable losses’, you know.” They had just got out of one of Lord Garlent’s informal lectures about five months after that first day and had much to talk about. Milton had heard the lecture before and left them to their own devices.

“I don’t like that term,” Ceniro argued. “All those people in the army, they all have a reason to join up, no matter what it is, or who they are. They’re trusting me to be responsible with their _lives_.”

“They’re all prepared to die if necessary,” Renee said. “Doesn’t mean that it is necessary, always, but sometimes, what if you have to choose between losing part of your army and losing part of your lord’s territory?”

“Well, I’d do neither,” Ceniro said.

Renee giggled. “That’s not possible. You’re fighting against someone who has the opposite goals. They’ll be trying as hard as they can to kill your people and prevent you from achieving your main objective, and then you’ll be trying really hard not just to kill their people, and achieve your objective, but to save every one of your people. That’s crazy!”

“I know it sounds crazy…”

“It is crazy! So you just have to be efficient with what you have so you don’t lose too many. Did you skip that day of Lord Venedan’s class?”

“No, I heard him, I just refuse to accept it.”

“Interesting,” said an old voice behind them, and they turned to see Lord Garlent had snuck up on them. “You really think you can do that? No other tactician has managed to keep every single soldier alive in all of history, not even the Hero Hartmut, not even our Roland.”

“I don’t know if I can actually do it,” Ceniro admitted. “But it seems like the most important thing. I mean, if you lose a really good soldier, then you could have used him later and can’t.”

“So you try not to lose the good ones,” Renee said. “That’s why there are so many infantry units in an army! They’re supposed to – You already know all of this, this is basic, I’m not going to teach you what you should already know.”

“Oh, he knows it,” Garlent said. “Both of you are well past that point. I’m only curious as to how you think you will accomplish this perfect survival rate while also being an effective tactician. I note that you can’t yet accomplish it in practice.”

Ceniro blushed. It was true he still lost on a regular basis, and even when he won he was usually missing half his army, even in chess. But since they’d all been getting more personal attention from Lord Garlent, he’d been improving substantially – and yet he still had so far to go before he was anywhere as good as the master.

Or Milton. The arrogant knight truly hated him, or so it felt, and took every opportunity to shove him or kick him whenever he was within arm’s reach, usually with a muttered epithet. Ceniro tried very hard not to be within arm’s reach, because he much preferred the stony refusal of acknowledgement that Milton gave him the rest of the time. Milton still beat him every time, just as Lord Garlent himself did – Renee had won twice against him so far, and the only person who could defeat him regularly was Lord Garlent, although even he didn’t win every time. For all his faults, Milton did work hard…

“Well?” Garlent asked, and Ceniro realized that he was supposed to respond.

“Um, well…”

“Stop beginning all your sentences with ‘um’!” Garlent cried, exasperated.

Ceniro flinched and narrowly avoided doing it again. “I’m going to keep getting better. I’m getting more familiar with a lot of the soldiers, how they fight, and it’s really helping me.”

“So it’s familiarity with your troops that brings success, eh?” Garlent asked with a look from under his brows. “I’ll have to bring in more to shake things up.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Renee said. “Ooh, can you get pegasus knights, master?”

“Pegasus knights are expensive and capricious, girl. Yes, if you can get one, they’ll fight for you as loyally as any knight – but it’s getting them to stay in one place that’s the problem.”

“But I like my units,” Ceniro muttered.

“You stick too long with the same lot, you’ll grow stagnant,” Garlent barked. “If you’re going to have this absurd goal, or even if you don’t, you need to learn how to quickly assess your forces both new and old. I’ll show you. Come with me, we’re going mercenary shopping!”

Renee’s face lit up. “Right now? Elimine be praised, how exciting!”

“Okay,” Ceniro said, but he was kind of excited too. This was something new.

Pent had finished the sealing ritual on Armads, now laid on an altar at the back of a sickly-yellow cave that stank of rotten eggs. Ceniro wondered how Hector could stand it, dimly recalling his disheveled appearance when he had returned from his trip with Lord Athos the year before. And he’d had to fight ghosts through this? Alone, without even the moral support of his friends…

Hector was tough. That had always been clear, but it was even clearer now.

Ceniro was glad when he came to the entrance of the cave and saw blue sky again and felt the cold, clear air on his face. The cave was a lot warmer, but Erk and Florina had almost passed out from the fumes, and Rigel had to practice using her new staff on them.

Right as he took a step out of the cave, rejoining Louise, Klein, and George, the farseer pinged.

He looked around, glanced at it, and looked further down the mountainside. “We have company, I believe. Did we annoy someone by crossing their land?”

Bartre squinted at them. “Hard to say. They don’t exactly look like they’re from around here, though…”

“Because they’re not wearing skirts?” Caddie asked, unrepentant when Bartre glowered at him.

“He’s right,” Frank said. “Some of those are from Bern. But does that mean anything?”

“They’re heading right for us,” Ceniro said. “Let’s go talk to them. Although…”

“They’re really close to the cave,” Pent said in a low voice. “If they find it and tell others, well… too many prying eyes and even my efforts won’t hold up. If they’re hostile, we might have to wipe them out.”

Ceniro sighed with a grimace. “What a waste. But you’re right.” He raised his voice. “Hello! Who are you?”

“Who are you, rather?” called back the captain of that group. “That’s Pent Reglay, going by the alias ‘Rowan’ with the Near Elite Company!”

“The what now?” Andy asked. “Get it right! It’s Ceniro, not ‘Near’!”

“Whatever you’re called, it doesn’t matter,” said the captain. “Reglay’s bounty is big enough you ought to be called The Walking Purses!”

“Clever,” Pent said drily. “I’d say that solves our dilemma for us, doesn’t it, Ceniro?”

“I agree,” Ceniro said, and flexed his arms. “Right, here’s what we do…”

Lord Garlent had been unable to hire pegasus knights for his private army, but the new soldiers he did hire made things complicated again for Ceniro for a while as he had to quickly learn what they were capable of. He couldn’t do it at a glance like Lord Garlent, but then, Lord Garlent was in his mid-seventies. He had plenty of experience to do it so well. Ceniro needed to gain his own experience…

…And as quickly as possible, as today they were going on a field trip into the north of Ostia, to a mountain pass leading into the south of Etruria. There was a small castle at the top of the pass, they had been told, and they had been given maps to help them prepare their strategies for when they got there.

Lord Garlent, Renee, and Milton were all riding in a carriage, but Ceniro insisted on walking along with the other soldiers. He mostly walked alongside Fernandez, who was still friendly to him, no matter what the others said.

“Are you sure you want to walk?” Renee had asked. “The roads aren’t going to be great on foot.”

“Yes, really,” he said. “I walked to Ostia from Santaruz. You really get to see more on foot.”

“I see most on a horse,” she said. “Your words are tempting, but… I’m better at fighting with my lance than I am at walking all day. You can walk for three days. Your feet are going to be awfully sore at the end of it. I’ll be all fresh, and I’ll beat you when we get there!”

“No more sore than anyone else’s walking with me,” he answered. “And we’ll see who beats whom when we get there!”

“Useless peasant,” Milton muttered as he passed nearby. “You’re not good for anything other than walking.”

Ceniro rolled his eyes behind Milton’s back, and Renee shrugged before following Milton off to the carriage.

And now, three days later, they had arrived at Tanquet Pass, with its white-shining mountains. Ceniro headed off to the side of the group, where he wasn’t blocked by all the taller men, where he could see the view off to the east of the road. It was truly spectacular.

They turned a corner and his steps slowed to a stop, his mouth falling open as he stared frankly.

A crystalline lake lay blue and serene under the winter sky, glittering under the low sun. And darting back and forth across the top of it were pegasus knights, soaring, diving, spinning through the air, engaged in the sort of aerial acrobatics that only pegasi were capable of, white wings flashing and spears and swords sparkling in the sun.

“What did you stop for?” Fernandez asked curiously, noticing he’d fallen behind and coming back to him.

Ceniro spread his arms wide. “Just… look at this. Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

Fernandez shrugged, smiled. “Not me, but you go right ahead and look at it. I’ll just make sure no one jumps us, okay?”

“Okay,” Ceniro said breathlessly, not really listening, just drinking everything in.

That did it. He wanted to be a tactician, a tactician who traveled. If something this beautiful was just in Ostia, a place not renowned for its beauty or natural wonders, imagine how beautiful the whole world was!


	10. Episode 9: Dark Sage

Episode 9: Dark Sage

It was October, and they were journeying carefully right into the heart of Etruria. Louise and Klein spent a lot of time with Fiora and Florina, out of range of identification by most people, and Pent stayed close to George and Yens, who were the only other people in the group who were both tall enough that he didn’t stand out, and who didn’t ride a horse like Kent, Andy, and Frank. Bartre and Karla had left them in Jutes again, and the rest of them continued onwards, back across the sea to Etruria and towards their next goal.

“I’m not sure exactly how we’re going to play this,” Pent confessed to Ceniro. “Douglas would understand, and he could get us to see Bishop Yodel, who could probably arrange something to keep Aureola safe, even if he can’t get me to it. But getting to see Douglas could be tricky.”

“We could use Matthew or Legault,” Ceniro agreed. “But Matthew is in Ostia, and I have no idea where Legault might be. Probably in Pherae with Nino, if I had to guess. Anyway, perhaps we can do something else. He remembers me and Fiora, right?”

“He remembers you. He might remember Fiora.”

“Then you should hole up somewhere outside of Aquleia and she and I, and maybe a couple of the others like Renee and Rigel, should go seek him out. I’m sure if he remembers me, he’ll agree to see me.”

“You did do him and all of Etruria a great service,” Pent agreed. “All right. We’ll find a place to stay that doesn’t ask too many questions. You go on, then.”

So Ceniro took the three women with him and ventured into Aquleia, the white City of Saint Elimine, and went straight to the palace, asking for General Douglas. When he gave his name, the guard saluted smartly and went straight off. Ceniro blinked at his retreating back, trying to remember if he’d met him two years before, but it was a hopeless task, even though he was reasonably good at remembering people. It was his now-well-trained habit of assessing people’s combat strengths that helped him, but there had been so many people to keep track of that one crazy day in Aquleia, when Lord Eshan had tried for a coup with the Holy Maiden staff…

He was distracted by Renee and Rigel whispering and giggling behind him. “What?”

“You’re so important now,” Renee teased him. “Generals jump at your name.”

“That wasn’t a general,” he said, confused, and was more confused when that just made them giggle more.

Fortunately, then the soldier returned and led them to General Douglas’s study.

Douglas rose to greet them. “Ah, Ceniro! I recall you well. How are you?”

“I’m well,” Ceniro said, shaking the extended hand, “and so is our mutual friend. I left him in Ostia while I traveled here to speak with you.” He was flat-out lying, since he had no idea how to speak a coded message. But perhaps he’d get a chance to speak with Douglas honestly soon.

“I see,” Douglas said, and he seemed a little disappointed. “Still, I’m glad to know he found you. He wasn’t expecting you to be easy to find, you know.”

“I don’t blame him,” Ceniro said. “But it was his good luck that he met a Sacaean hunter friend of ours who managed to find me for him.”

“That’s good to hear,” Douglas said. “Now, what did you want to speak to me about?”

Ceniro looked around; the door was shut, but he didn’t know how cautious he had to be. Fiora had remained outside on guard duty, and Renee and Rigel were casually looking out the window, so they were pretty safe, he hoped.

Douglas noticed, of course – Ceniro’s gesture had not been subtle. “I think you may speak reasonably freely here. Only keep your voice down.”

“Well, then,” Ceniro began, almost in a whisper, “Pent and Louise are definitely with me, although not in Aquleia, and we’re looking for the eight Legendary Weapons so as to seal them away from the world.”

Douglas blinked and rocked back on his heels. “You don’t pick the easy quests, do you?”

Ceniro laughed self-consciously. “It’s related to a certain set of incidents last year, incidents that left the Legendary Weapons _unsealed_ and ready for anyone to grab – although of course they have to get past the ghosts who guard them first. It’s a bit complicated. I’ll try to start from the beginning.”

He tried not to go into too much detail regarding his journey with Eliwood and Hector, although Douglas nodded knowingly when Ceniro had to mention the Shrine of Seals – it was rather important to the story.

Douglas sat back when he was done. “So you want me to arrange a meeting with Bishop Yodel, a secret meeting.”

“Yes, sir. I don’t know exactly where Aureola is, but if, as we guess, it’s guarded by the Church of Saint Elimine, it’s probably quite safe already. If Bishop Yodel decides that it doesn’t need sealing, then Pent and I are agreed to believe him and continue on our way.”

“I’ll speak with him. In the meantime,” Douglas said, raising his voice to signal the end of subterfuge, “you would like a job, wouldn’t you?”

Ceniro smiled. “If you have any suiting a rag-tag band of mercenaries with all wins and no losses.”

“I think I can find something for you,” Douglas said. “There have been reports of a Count Dymal terrorizing his own villages. I’d like you to investigate, but I do not authorize you to shake him down. Defend yourself, if necessary, but any other interference will reflect badly on the crown. And make sure your mage friend watches his spells.” He wrote quickly and after a few minutes while Ceniro let him concentrate, handed Ceniro a letter reiterating what he had just said in more formal terms.

Ceniro nodded. “That will do nicely, and I’ll warn him, not that he needs it. It sounds interesting. When should we be back by?”

“His estate is about two days from here, so be back in about five days. I should have more for you then.”

Ceniro smiled and stood. “Thank you, General Douglas.”

“No, thank _you_ , Ceniro.”

As it turned out, Pent volunteered to stay behind with Klein and Fiora while Louise came with the rest of the group; Lyn had put Louise’s hair in a Sacaean headwrap and she also drew her hood over her head. The group marched north-west to the county of Ullean, Count Dymal’s territory.

Count Dymal was indeed terrorizing his own villages; they came across him doing so almost as soon as they entered Ullean. He took them for bandits at first and right in the middle of the road, he set his troops on them. Ceniro made sure not to kill many of them – it wasn’t their fault they were working for an idiot… he hoped – and soon enough, they were all injured or unconscious except for the unlucky few who had been hit by Erk’s thunder and one who had been killed by Caddie’s axe. After that, the Count panicked and fled, until Ceniro called him back by explaining they had been sent by General Douglas, showing him the letter that authorized them to investigate certain activites. “But I think we’ve seen all that we need to. Care to explain?”

The Count spluttered and blustered, something about peasants evading taxes, and Ceniro, who was the son of a carpenter after all, listened skeptically. In Santaruz, the Marquess had never invaded his own villages; if someone wasn’t paying their taxes, soldiers might come and throw them in prison, but the punishment wasn’t meted out to everyone indiscriminately, young and old, rich and poor, hard-working and lazy. It was ridiculous. The Count just wanted to indulge his ego and his temper.

Then the Count tried to bribe him. Ceniro laughed and refused. The Count drew his sword and swung at him, calling him a churl; quick as a breath, Lyn was behind him, locking her swords around his throat. After the Count almost said something uncomplimentary about Sacaeans, Ceniro calmly said that they would be returning to General Douglas now, and the Count just about had an aneurysm, but dared not touch them again.

Douglas appeared not to have moved since Ceniro had last seen him. “Ah, Ceniro, I hear you were successful.”

“To some extent,” Ceniro said. “I think I let him down gently.”

“Excellent work. And I have that answer for you.” He passed Ceniro a sealed envelope. “I don’t need to warn you not to open this in front of strangers.”

“Of course,” Ceniro said. “I’ll see you then. Or not, as the case may be.”

Douglas chuckled. “You catch on quickly. Farewell.”

Ceniro bowed and left.

The message was a short one; a location near the Tower of the Saint on the outskirts of Aquleia, and a time for late in the evening.

“We probably shouldn’t take everyone,” Pent said. “Even if things get sticky, the fewer people around, the better.”

“In that case, let’s take Lyn, Rigel, Erk, Florina, and Fiora,” Ceniro said. “That’s… seven people.”

“Not me?” Renee cried indignantly. “Do you not trust me to be quiet?”

“It’s not that,” Ceniro said. “I’m only taking people with swords or magic. You use a spear. It stands out.”

Renee subsided, though not without a pout and a longing glance at Rigel, who wasn’t looking. Ceniro gave her a curious look before leading the rest out of the inn and back to the city.

The location was for a small café, and Bishop Yodel was there. Pent strolled up to him and took a seat at his table. “Nice summer night, isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is,” Bishop Yodel said, with a wizened smile. “Do you approach me seeking Saint Elimine’s grace?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Pent answered. There hadn’t been a sign or countersign arranged that Ceniro knew of, but apparently their conversation had been long and casual enough that Bishop Yodel thought it sufficient and stood, leading them to the cathedral.

They didn’t go in any of the main doors, which appeared to be locked for the evening. If Ceniro recalled correctly from when he had been sightseeing, there was always one door unlocked in the main entrances for someone desperately in need to approach the priests, but he hadn’t made use of it himself. And it wasn’t the one that Bishop Yodel led them to now. They entered a small, private door around the back, and went into the nave of the church just long enough for the bishop to open a large trapdoor on one side, descending down a steep flight of black steps into the darkness of the cathedral’s crypt.

Ceniro stopped the rest of his group. “Pent’s the only one who really needs to be with the tome. The rest of you should stay here, out of sight, if possible, and watch that no one followed us.”

“Understood,” Lyn said with a smile, and the five fighters scattered through the church, finding alcoves to watch from. Ceniro turned to follow Pent and Yodel. If there was a disturbance, he’d try to come back to assist.

They made it to the bottom and gathered in the low-ceilinged crypt. “Is this it?” Pent asked, his voice echoing softly in the stone space.

“No,” Bishop Yodel said. “We will go there shortly. But first I must confess to you that not all has been well here. Aureola has lain untouched for centuries, and yet… there seems to be something showing interest in it.”

“Something?” Pent asked with great curiousity. Ceniro heard Florina shiver and her avatar drew closer to Fiora’s.

“We can’t tell who it might be, but the brothers and sisters have been sensing concentrations of dark magic near the cathedral, and once from the chamber where Aureola itself lies. It’s most unusual. We contacted the Chapter of Elder Mages, and they claimed to have nothing to do with it. The tome was untouched, and we dare not leave a guard for fear that others will discover it, but I worry that someone or something might be trying to steal it.”

“Huh,” Pent said thoughtfully. “So… be careful, is what you’re saying. I can’t promise the sealing ritual won’t attract attention – there may be flashy lights, it is anima magic after all – but I’ll do my best.”

“I can try to sense it while you are working,” Rigel said softly from her corner upstairs.

Yodel nodded. “That is all. I will lead you to it.”

He led them to a secret panel in the wall, one that they would not have seen even in the light of the lantern, and they came to an even more cramping spiral staircase. Pent was at quite a disadvantage, bent almost double to fit into the space, and even Ceniro had to stoop.

The staircase seemed to go on longer than was reasonable, and was just as dark as it had been underground, but at last they saw the glimmer of moonlight, and came to a chamber in the tall tower at the back of the church, the Tower of the Saint itself. Perhaps the highest chamber; only the rafters were above them. It was hardly enclosed; the night wind blew through many windows and artistic openings in the tower, and the moonlight streamed through, lighting up the place enough that Yodel quickly put out his lantern and left it on the stairs. The chamber was much wider than the spiral staircase had been, and Ceniro guessed that the stairs had been built into the wall, hidden even from the rooms on the floors below.

And on a plinth in the middle of the chamber lay a vaguely familiar golden tome, unmarred by long years.

Pent smiled. “Well, time to get to work. Stand back, please.”

There certainly was a lot of light involved in casting anima magic, Ceniro reflected nervously as Pent set about his ritual. No one looking in even the vicinity of the tower could miss that.

And the farseer pinged.

Everyone, Pent, Yodel, and Ceniro jumped, and Ceniro almost dropped it getting it out as fast as he could. There were unknown figures approaching the Tower.

He turned to Bishop Yodel. “There are people coming, and I don’t know who they are. Just in case, I’m going to go back down. You should take this and use it after I leave.” He handed him the Light Rune that he had kept ever since Nabata.

“Ah, I see,” said the bishop. “Just… be careful. It is forbidden to use violence in the Tower of the Saint, but if these people are violent, you will have no choice. Only please do not hurt the brothers and sisters who live here.”

“I’ll do my best to keep them all unharmed,” Ceniro promised, and started down. The Light Rune lit up and blocked the entrance to the chamber behind him.

If it hadn’t been for the slightest glow from the farseer, he would have had no light. It was a little claustrophobic in that cramped stairwell with only that faint light, but he pushed on as fast as he could. Still, the unknown figures had entered the cathedral by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs and found himself in the crypt. “Lyn?”

“Here. Need me?”

“What exactly are they doing?”

“Looking for something. The way up, maybe? Oh, they’re about to find Erk…”

“We found a little boy!” Ceniro heard as he poked his head out of the stairwell and into the main part of the cathedral. “Not who we’re looking for, right?”

“No, get on with it,” said another voice, and Ceniro heard Rigel gasp. It was a quiet gasp, but in the echoes of the cathedral, it grew to a loud one, but the enemies turned this way and that, trying to figure out where it came from. “What was that?”

“Who are you?” asked a new voice, and Ceniro saw a cluster of monks and clerics approaching the people. “You are armed within a sacred space. That is not permitted.”

“Yeah, but it’s important!” said the enemy leader, a druid, walking forward to face the lead cleric. “Look, just go back to bed and we’ll do our business on our own.”

“What do we do with the boy, sir?” asked one of the soldiers with the druid.

“Throw him outside, we don’t need him.”

“It’s all right, Erk,” Ceniro said softly. “Don’t burn them all yet. Let this play out for a bit.”

“I must protest!” cried the cleric. “He is but a child, clearly just taking shelter from the outside.”

“It’s a nice night, he’ll be fine,” the druid said coldly. “Now go on, you should move yourselves.”

“There’s stairs down over here,” called a soldier from the stairwell Ceniro had vacated a few minutes ago.

“We want stairs up, don’t be silly.”

Ceniro grinned to himself. This lot wasn’t going to find Aureola even if he put a sign out telling them which way to go.

“The stairs into the Tower are off-limits,” the cleric said stiffly. “You are not of the Church of Saint Elimine, so you are not allowed up.”

“My master told me not to use force unless it was necessary,” growled the druid, getting in the cleric’s face. She began to look a bit nervous, but recovered herself, probably reminding herself that her light magic was stronger than his dark magic… even if he was probably more powerful than she was.

“You would be committing sacrilige!”

“I’d say it’s necessary; our end goal is too important just to spare your feelings.” The druid pointed at the monks and clerics. “Remove them!”

Ceniro stepped from behind a pillar. “Maybe it’s me you’re looking for?”

“Who are you?” the druid snapped. “Aren’t you the one Lord Milton keeps complaining about?”

“Aren’t you the older brother of one of my companions?” Ceniro retorted.

“Rigel!? She’s here? She’s supposed to be…”

“In Nabata!” Rigel exclaimed, also stepping out of cover on the other side of the room. “The Elder gave that mission to me! What are you doing here, with that Lord Milton?”

“He has been my friend for a long time! If anyone knows what to do with the Legendary Weapons, he does!”

“He doesn’t know what they do!” Rigel shouted. “They almost wiped out _all_ life on Elibe, not just dragons!”

Ceniro interrupted their sibling spat. “In any case, we are all searching for the same thing, but I can’t allow you to find it and give it to Milton!”

“Who let you in?” one of the monks demanded. “How do you know about the Legendary Weapon?”

“The Bishop, and educated guessing,” Ceniro said. “It’s not important. Lyn?”

“If these folk intend to do you harm, we shall defend you,” Lyn said to the monks and clerics, stepping out beside Ceniro. “Have no fear.”

“But… but…” said the cleric.

There were about thirty enemies, grouping up near the front of the church, and only six of them. This wouldn’t be the easiest battle he’d fought. “Go up there by the… the throne-thing,” he said to the monks and clerics. It would be easiest if he could keep an eye on them. “Are there any more of you in the back?” It wouldn’t do for the enemy to take hostages in the confusion.

“Some…”

“Erk! Lyn! Go guard the back door, keep any of the enemy from getting past! Florina, there, Fiora, stand there.” The high dias was difficult to climb except at the points with the stairs. If they could manage the choke points… How were they going to deal with the druid? Rigel probably couldn’t overpower her brother, but perhaps both pegasus knights working together… “Rigel, stay with me, we’ll cover this staircase.”

“I’ll help,” said a monk, stepping forward. “I happen to have my tome with me…”

“You can’t, Trinn!” cried the cleric. “It’s not allowed…”

“Saint Elimine fought against the dragons rather than be overwhelmed and her people slain,” said the monk, with a holy gesture. “I’d like to help these folk protect us.” He turned to Ceniro. “I’m Trinn. You appear to be a strategist. Where shall I stand?”

“Please go with the knights,” Ceniro said, pointing to Florina and Fiora, who were dealing with lancemen with only their swords. They were good enough he trusted them to hold the stairs.

But he still hoped Pent would finish soon.

“You’re horribly outnumbered,” said the druid. “You really want to fight us?”

“What are you waiting for?” Ceniro asked, sword in hand and farseer in the other.

Soldiers began to climb the staircase towards them. “If you’re going to fight, you’re going to get hurt, Rigel,” warned the druid. “You’re not a fighter!”

“I… I am now!” Rigel said defiantly. “I can be a scholar and a fighter! I learned it from Lord Pent!” But her voice wavered, seeing axemen advancing quickly up the stairs towards them.

“We’re fine,” Ceniro assured her. “Just take them out before they reach the top. I’ll deal with the rest.”

“Lord Pent is a traitor and an assassin!”

“That’s a lie! He’s the best teacher in Elibe!” Erk called back.

“Yeah!” Rigel agreed. “Meanwhile, you’re threatening to kill defenseless clergy!” One axeman fell back, looking pale and feverish from her spells, but the other three kept coming. Soon Ceniro would have to deal with them… could he take them all on at once?

“Collateral damage for the greater good!”

“Oh, shut up!” Rigel screamed, and lobbed a great big ball of black goo at her brother. He ducked and sent his own flying back; Rigel didn’t dodge in time and cried out as it wrapped around her shoulder.

A light lit up and the goo dissolved, and one of the clerics took a step forward, raising a healing staff. “I’ll help you too!”

“Thanks,” Ceniro panted, parrying another blow from the axeman and kicking him in the gut, trying to shove him back down the stairs. It was a desperate move, only to be used as a last resort, since he was now horribly off balance. The other axeman took advantage of it and moved in on his left, overbalancing him and knocking him down. Rigel screamed and threw more magic at the axemen, buying Ceniro just enough time to scramble to his feet. “Fiora! I need to trade with you!”

“Yes, sir!”

“We’re done up here!” Pent cried from up in the tower. “Need us?”

“Yes please!” Ceniro said, while running to Florina’s side of the dias, quickly checking the farseer. “In fact, you’re going to have to fight just to make it out of the crypt again.” There were some soldiers down there, although they looked a bit lost. They wouldn’t find the secret passage until Pent emerged from it, but Pent could take care of himself. He hoped. He heard Yodel deactivate the Light Rune and saw the two begin to make the long trip down the spiral staircase as fast as they could. They’d hold out until Pent and Yodel got there. “Lyn, can you go clear the top of the stairs for when Pent gets here?”

“Got it!” Lyn cried, leaving Erk to deal with what was left of their enemies by himself and sprinting for the stairs. She took the soldiers there by surprise, and they couldn’t stand against both her swords.

After what seemed like ages, Pent and Yodel emerged from the stairs; there were still about twenty enemy soldiers left, including the druid. “You haven’t left us many, Ceniro!”

Ceniro had no energy for banter right now. “Get Yodel to the druid! He’s Rigel’s brother, try not to kill him, but he’s messing up my defense!”

“Will do,” Pent said, but there were a lot of soldiers between him and the druid, and even with Lyn’s swords defending him, both spellcasters were vulnerable and getting backed into a corner rather than able to advance on the druid. Erk was also running low on energy, and Rigel was out of energy, resting with the clerics by the seat of the Bishop. This wasn’t looking good…

There was a sound like a thunderclap, and a dark-robed figure obscured by shadowy black mist appeared in the centre of the cathedral. Dark energy radiated through the chamber, throwing almost everyone from their feet.

Yodel immediately climbed back to his feet and pointed. “He- he- that’s the one we’ve been feeling! You! Who are you!?”

“My name matters not!” snapped the figure, as enraged as Yodel was. “All that matters is Aureola’s safety! Stand aside!”

Pent bowed to the figure. “Your arrival is timely, Lord Bramimond.”

“L-l-l-lord Brami-” Rigel stammered, before falling on her knees and prostrating herself in a Khafti gesture of respect. “My lord!”

“You who seal the Legendary Weapons, good work,” Bramimond said to Pent. “It’s a good job, and I don’t have the strength to do it anymore.” He turned to Rigel. “I… er… it’s… nice to have fans…?”

“Why does he speak like that?” Fiora asked.

“I’m not sure, but I was told it’s because to achieve complete mastery over Elder magic, to be able to wield Apocalypse, he had to give up everything that he was, even his personality. Now he – or she – only mirrors the people he’s talking to,” Ceniro explained in a low voice.

“Lord Bramimond…” Yodel said. “I… I apologize. I did not know.”

Vellith was out cold. Bramimond walked over to him. “He has talent, and yet not as much as his younger sister,” he said conversationally. “But he shouldn’t be here. When I leave, he will have no memory of me – or of this night. Nor will any of the others who now lie unconscious. You should move them far away from here.” Ceniro looked around. That meant all the remaining enemy soldiers, and all the monks and clerics, including Trinn and the cleric who had helped them. The power Bramimond had if he could alter memories… He shivered.

“We will do that,” Pent said. “Before you go, if I might ask a quick question…?”

“I am growing weary again already, but if it is indeed quick…”

“Please, can you tell us where to find Murgleis, or Maltet, or Eckesachs? I’m sure Apocalypse is safe with you…”

“It is safe within the Shrine of Seals. The others will reveal themselves to you, but…” Bramimond’s face was almost impossible to see, but there might have been the ghost of a smile. “For Maltet, the lavender-haired girl will guide you.” He pointed vaguely at Florina, who dropped her sword, her eyes wide and hands shaking.

“M-m-m-me…?”

“Yes…?” Bramimond said, timidly. “You should… um… trust yourself, pegasus rider.”

“Thank you,” Pent said, bowing.

Bramimond did not acknowledge him but disappeared with a poof of mist.

Florina clapped her hands to her mouth, presumably to keep from screaming or something. Fiora put an arm around her. “It’s all right, Florina, we’ll figure out what he meant together. It’s okay! Just take some deep breaths.”

Pent looked at Yodel. “Well. Mission accomplished, somehow?”

Yodel was still recovering. “You had better take this fellow and his accomplices and remove them quickly from the Tower before they awaken. You have done us a great service, Pent, though I don’t believe Etruria will ever know about it. I wish you well, and I hope you can lift your exile soon.”

“Thank you,” Pent said. “I hope it too.”

A week or two later, they were crossing the mountains back into Sacae. As the plateau of plains came into view, Pent pushed back his hood from his head, letting his long silver hair spill out across his shoulders. “It’ll be nice not to have to hide, anymore.”

“Indeed,” Louise said, doing the same. “But it was also nice to see our homeland, for a time. It felt… more precious, somehow, because we weren’t supposed to be there.”

“I’ll get you back home someday,” Ceniro promised. “After this big important quest, of course.”

“Of course!” Pent said. “Now, I haven’t the faintest clue where in Sacae Hanon’s bow is supposed to be hidden. Lyn, do you have any ideas?”

“Me?” Lyn asked in surprise. “Oh, you mean like folk tales that might help? No, not really. I know many tales about her, but they’re pretty hazy on locations.”

“I have a suggestion,” Rigel said. “We should find some of the shaman of Sacae. Surely they have been working on the problem, just like all the other shaman in Elibe.”

“And… then what?” Pent asked, considering her idea. “Surely they won’t just hand over their research to strangers if we ask them directly, even if you are a shaman yourself.”

“What if we tell them it’s something incredibly dangerous?” Renee asked. “But that would just make them more curious. Rigel, can you not figure out the location from your own knowledge?”

Rigel looked flattered. “I’m not strong enough to do that. And I didn’t have the map of the whole continent when I set out, just of Nabata.”

“I know!” Renee exclaimed. “We should go to the biggest city in Sacae, or wherever the shaman of Sacae have some kind of headquarters, and you just go in and talk about things with them! Show them you’re an eager student and ask if they have any new discoveries!”

“That might work,” Pent said thoughtfully. “They were discussing it right out in the open when I first heard about it from them. Yes, that angle will probably work. Thank you, Renee.”

“You’re welcome,” Renee said, looking pleased. “I’ll coach you, Rigel! Subterfuge is fun, and you’ll do great!”

“W-wait, no one said anything about subterfuge!” Rigel exclaimed, backing away.

Renee took her hands. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to do this!”

“Um, er, well… I want to help, but that’s such a scary word!”

“But I’ll help you! Come on, let’s go talk about it.”

The two girls walked away through the grass, hand in hand.

Wil looked at Ceniro and waggled his eyebrows. Ceniro blinked back, mystified.

A few days later, after a quick trip to Bulgar and a bit of espionage by Renee and Rigel, Ceniro’s band was heading to the most eastern side of Sacae, so far east that most maps didn’t bother to include it. It was a very long journey, and took them another two weeks on top of the month that they’d traveled from Aquleia already.

Rigel had said she was not strong enough to sense the traces of the unsealing ripple, but she had a map showing its general location. Lyn said there were not likely to be many caves in this part of the land, not large ones anyway, but there were some old ruins from a time when there were more cities and fewer nomads in Sacae. From before the Scouring.

It took a few days, and the air was growing cold again, reminding many of them of when they had all met and banded together to become mercenaries. Louise bundled up Klein in warm woolen things, carrying him in a sling on her front. But they did eventually find a set of stone ruins set into the landscape, scattered wide as if there had once been a great city there; now, there were hardly the remains of walls of a few buildings.

It was a very melancholy sight, even though it was so old.

“In legends of my people, it’s said that this place is haunted,” Lyn said. “We don’t come here, not often, anyway. I wonder if it’s haunted by Hanon’s allies?”

“This place must have been destroyed in the Scouring,” Kent said. “But was it by dragons, or by the Legendary Weapons?”

Andy shivered. “Does it matter? Both are bad.”

“Dragons aren’t necessarily bad,” Lyn assured them quickly. “In fact, wasn’t it humans who started the war?”

“Playing devil’s advocate?” Yens drawled.

“No, not at all,” Lyn said. “I haven’t _really_ met any dragons, of course, at least not to talk to,” which was technically true, she never talked to Ninian while she was in dragon form, “but even though I fought one, I think Eliwood is right, that maybe they’re misunderstood.”

Frank blinked in surprise. “That was a leap you made there.”

Lyn smiled. “Sorry. But anyway… Neither dragons nor the Legendary Weapons are necessarily bad… but it’s true that they can both be used in this way.”

“And that’s why we’re sealing them!” Andy said. “The weapons, of course. The dragons are already stuck in their own dimension, thank goodness.”

Lyn and Ceniro shared an amused glance. “Yes, perhaps. Anyway, it’s getting late, we should make camp here and search the ruins tomorrow.”

In the middle of the night, Frank, who was on watch, came to get Ceniro. “I… might… have seen something.”

“Hnn?” Ceniro wasn’t too happy about being woken, but if it was important… “Show me?”

Lyn rolled over. “What’s-”

“I’ll get you if I need you,” Ceniro mumbled blearily in her direction, and stumbled out of the tent after Frank.

Frank led him to the edge of camp and pointed out at the ruins. “I thought I saw something in the sky, over there, but…”

The cold autumn night air was waking Ceniro up against his will. He checked the farseer and saw nothing, but often it didn’t see much at night anyway. “Did it look like a ghost?”

“I’m not sure exactly what a ghost would look like,” Frank said. “So… no? It might have been a bird, really. A big bird.”

Ceniro looked around, but both pegasi seemed to be sleeping quietly in camp. “I’ll stay here for a bit, if we see anything else.”

But he saw nothing else for maybe fifteen minutes, at which point he was almost too asleep to go back to his tent. He made it there with no memory of walking and burrowed into the warm blankets beside Lyn.

They approached the ruins in the early morning of the next day and the farseer went _ping_.

Ceniro and Frank looked at each other. “Guess there was something there after all,” Frank said.

“Guess so,” Ceniro said, looking down at it. “But not ghosts. Lots of mercenaries, including a wyvern rider, Milton’s wyvern rider actually, and… Rigel, your brother’s still trying to kill us.”

Rigel stamped in frustration. “Why is he following us?”

“Well, we must have led them right here,” George said. “But how would they follow us without us noticing?”

“Perhaps they could see the pegasus knights,” Wil suggested. “While staying out of range of the farseer? Is that possible?”

“It’s possible,” Ceniro said slowly. “Well, Rigel, since he’s your brother, I’m not enthusiastic about killing him…”

“You’re not enthusiastic about killing anyone,” Lyn said.

“But he knows where this place is now, and we can’t expect Bramimond to show up again and wipe his memory.”

Rigel lowered her head. “I don’t want him to die. He’s my only family. But if he could be… contained, somehow…”

“Difficult to take prisoners with us,” Ceniro mused. “But not impossible. All right. You lure him out, we’ll take out everyone else, Louise and Wil can take out the wyvern rider, and we’ll take him to Bulgar and cash in a favour to have him incarcerated for a while. If he really is a good friend of Milton’s, he’ll probably show up to release him sooner or later, but maybe we can finish things up with the last three Weapons before that happens.” He knew he could be risking the continent, but… he was an optimist?

“Thanks,” Rigel said.

“So let’s pretend we haven’t noticed them,” Ceniro said, taking Klein from Louise in preparation of the action to come, and divided his force into three groups to more efficiently search the ruins. One group had Louise, one group had Wil, and one group had Rigel. Louise went to the right, Wil went to the left, and Rigel went down the middle. Now he just had to convince that wyvern rider to not also go down the middle… so he put Pent and Erk in the middle too. Wyverns hated magic, especially thunder.

These mercenaries were good. Better than the ones they’d faced in the Tower of the Saint. They were moving to surround Ceniro’s groups as soon as they saw them, showing an actual vague sense of coordination. Ceniro had to adjust his forces quite a bit, as more and more enemies came out of the ruins closest to them, alerted by their companions already in combat. The wyvern rider was hovering overhead in the back, calling down orders to the group. The terrain was pretty open, but the ruins still provided a bit of cover, and the grasses were tall, hiding everything below waist-height. He kept a careful eye on the map. If these fighters had mines with them, even the farseer might not see them until too late. But then, the mercenaries wouldn’t be able to see their own mines… He decided mines were unlikely.

“Vellith!” Rigel shouted once she saw her brother coming to attack them in the middle. “Why do you keep _following_ me!?”

“Your new best friends are very good guides,” Vellith said. “I’d be a fool not to follow you! Since you’re here, you should come with me. They won’t last long now.”

“No!” Rigel said. “My friends are stronger than your friends, even your Milton friend! And you never listen to me when I warn you you’re doing something stupid!”

“Then you’ve chosen your path, Rigel, and I’m not going to save you from it,” Vellith said. “And you were always the stupid one, not me!”

“I am steel, you are glue,” Rigel muttered, but didn’t say it aloud, and the two shaman began to cast at each other. Pent and Erk were at a bit of a disadvantage here, but Kent wasn’t, and fast enough that Vellith’s spells went wide. Vellith ducked away, and Kent turned his attention to the swordsmen backing up the shaman.

Ceniro was a little worried. The enemies had been here all night, probably, which was plenty of time to search the near ruins. They might bring out Murgleis any moment now, and then they would be in trouble. He had to finish them as quickly as possible, before they could do that. “Fiora, Florina, I’m most worried about you. There seem to be fewer mercenaries farther north; take Andy and Frank and clear them out.” He hoped that meant the mercenaries hadn’t gotten to the northern section yet, and not that they’d already finished.

They were outnumbered, but not hopelessly. There were a few injuries, including a far-too-close call involving Louise and a cavalier, but he got Caddie to pull her back while Yens took care of the cavalier, and brought Erk out of the middle to heal her. The wyvern rider was cannily staying back far enough that none of his spellcasters or archers could hit her, but her encirclements weren’t working very well, and after the right side collapsed in favour of Ceniro’s fighters, he could bring them back around to try and encircle Vellith. If Yens could just give him a good whack in the gut…

But the enemies had seen the right side fall as well. “Rovenna!” yelled Vellith, backing up quickly. “We’ve taken too many losses! Get me out of here!”

“I suppose we have no choice,” Rovenna called back, and, greatly daring, swooped in past Kent’s lance and scooped up Vellith in her wyvern’s claw. Erk cast Thunder at her, but Vellith threw up a dark spell that shielded them from it, and then before Erk could cast another, the wyvern shot away, south over the plains.

Ceniro grimaced. “That… wasn’t quite according to plan.” The farseer was showing the rest of the enemies eliminated or retreating after Rovenna and Vellith. He decided to let them go. They probably didn’t even know why they had been hired. At least no one had shown up with Murgleis. Did that mean it was still safe?

“Did someone outsmart the great Ceniro?” Lyn teased, cleaning her sword.

It wasn’t really teasing he appreciated, not so close to the fact. “I was too obvious. Even a novice would have seen what was going on.”

“It’s hard to disguise dying people. Don’t worry about it,” she said. “We won, and Murgleis will be well safe before Milton gets anywhere near it.”

“If it’s still here.”

“They didn’t get away with it, did they?”

“I’m not sure, but it didn’t look like it…”

“Then it’s probably fine. We have plenty of time now. You seem grumpy! Take the day off and let me take care of things.” She shook a finger at him.

“Okay,” he said, a bit sheepishly.

It was true. He was pretty disappointed in himself, but they had the ruins to themselves, and Pent could get to work once they found that bow.


	11. Episode 10: The Blizzard

Episode 10: The Blizzard

The landscape was white as far as the eye could see, which was not far, as they were in a narrow valley high in the Ilian mountains. They had already been to Edessa, where Fiora and Florina had finally reported to Ilian High Command, and received formal permission to continue flying with the CEC.

Florina had become somewhat distressed after Murgleis had been sealed, worrying over the words Bramimond had said to her. The only place she could really think of to guide them was her home in Pyrene, very close to Edessa, although she said Fiora could lead them there just as well as she could.

But now they were in Pyrene, and Florina and Fiora’s parents, Sara and Keith, welcomed them warmly. Sara was much like Florina but her wavy lavender hair reached to the floor. Keith looked like he had been a soldier once, but he wasn’t any longer; now he was the candlemaker for the village. The group couldn’t all fit in the house, and there was no inn in this village, it was so small, but the neighbours were hospitable, especially when the companions shared what food they had with them.

Sara and Keith greeted Lyn affectionately, and Lyn hugged them both. “They came to stay with us when I was very very small,” she told Ceniro, who vaguely remembered the story. “Florina was born, and she and Sara stayed with the Lorca for many years. That’s how we were such good friends when you met us.”

“It’s nice to meet you finally,” Ceniro said, smiling. “Your daughters are all skilled, wonderful people.”

“All?” Keith asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“Yes, all,” Ceniro said firmly. “Unless there’s a fourth somewhere whom I haven’t met yet…”

“No, you met all of us,” Fiora said. “Farina is well, Mother, Father. She’s adventuring with her… friend. We last saw her in the spring, in Ostia.”

Florina squeaked suddenly, and turned red.

“Ah yes, speaking of Ostia,” Wil said, and grinned – but he looked about ready to bolt for the door.

“What’s this about Ostia?” Keith asked.

Fiora blushed too. “In my last letter… which was a shamefully long time ago, I know… I may have told you about the man I was seeing. Well… he is my husband now. We married in Ostia in the spring,” and she gestured to Kent, who had already shaken hands with them and now bowed rather stiffly.

“And… um…” Florina began.

“I’m hers,” Wil finished, grin still nervously stretched across his face.

Sara and Keith blinked, and then both began to talk at once.

It didn’t take long to explain to both of them, and they both smiled at their new sons-in-law, who both relaxed. They all stayed up talking quite late into the night, even when the fire had burned dim.

The next morning, they gathered in the centre of town to discuss their strategy. Or they were going to, but apparently Klein had said his first word the night before and now all Pent and Louise cared about was getting him to say more. “Can you say ‘papa’?” Louise cooed, balancing him in a standing position on her lap.

“Baba,” said Klein solemnly, wobbling, and Louise grinned.

“Paaa-paaa,” she repeated, stressing the ‘p’ sound.

“Baba,” Klein insisted. “Ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba. Ma, ma, ma, ma, ma, ma.”

“Mama?” Pent said, pointing at Louise.

“Mama,“ Klein said, and both Pent and Louise nearly exploded.

“Which word did he say first, Lord Pent?” Yens asked.

“Mama,” Pent said. “I think it’s slightly easier to say.”

“You’re not going to start teaching him magic straight away, are you?” Ceniro teased.

Pent chuckled. “I think ‘fimbulvetr’ is a bit out his repertoire for today. Maybe tomorrow.”

Once they could get the ecstatic parents to focus, they agreed that there didn’t seem to be anything in Pyrene that would lead them to Maltet, and Sara and Keith knew nothing of the Legendary Weapons or of dark magic. Which Ceniro had not expected them to, but he wasn’t sure what to do next.

“We might have to wait for Florina to have a brainwave,” Lyn teased, poking her friend, who hid her face. “Oh, don’t worry, Florina, there’s no rush. There’s only one more after this one, and then we’re done and we can go back to wandering normally!”

“Yes, but we don’t know where that one is either,” Florina said fretfully. “And I’m trying, but I can’t think of anything that might be useful…”

“We could always try to find Canas,” Pent suggested. “I recall he is from Ilia, and it’s probably easier to find a living person than an inanimate object. He could help us. Or his mother could help us!”

“His mother?” asked Fiora curiously. “Why her?”

“Because she is the famous Mountain Hermit,” Louise said, and giggled. “I’ll never forget when Lord Pent learned that he was traveling with the Mountain Hermit’s son. And dear Canas, he was so excited to learn he was traveling with the Mage General! They were brothers in spirit, truly.”

“What!?” Rigel cried. “The Mountain Hermit is still alive? And living out here in Ilia?”

Pent looked at his wife with a ‘see?’ look on his face, and she giggled again. “Perhaps we can visit her while we’re here, even if we don’t ask for her aid in locating Maltet.”

“Ah!” Florina cried, jumping up. Then she realized she had jumped up and threw herself back down again onto her bench, clapping her hands over her mouth.

Wil put an arm around her. “What is it? Did you think of something?”

“Um. Mountain Hermit! Is she from the Mountain of the Ice Dragon? That’s near here! Dragons… It could be a place to start?”

“And you were there once, when you were twelve, and you almost caught your death of a cold in the next week,” Fiora scolded her, but softened it with a smile.

“Yes! Yes!” Florina exclaimed. “I told Ninian about it, and she was born near there too. Oh!” She froze.

“Could she be the daughter of that ice dragon?” Fiora filled in for her.

“Wait, can you say that again?” Renee asked.

“Lady Ninian of Pherae is an ice dragon who is probably the daughter of the good, kind dragon said to have lived here before the Scouring,” Fiora summarized. “But you mustn’t spread that around.”

“Even if anyone believed you,” Yens put in cheerfully.

“O-okay,” Renee said, blinking rapidly.

Pent rose and brushed snow from his cloak. “Well, let’s prepare to be off, then! Florina, where is this mountain exactly?”

“It’s the tallest mountain in Ilia,” Florina said, and pointed.

Pent squinted at it. “I see. That won’t take long to reach.”

They said farewell to Sara and Keith and set off; it wouldn’t take them more than a day or two to reach the mountain. Already it loomed large over them, a towering spike of ice and snow, gleaming blue and black in the sunlight. The next day dawned dark and foreboding, but Fiora and Florina said it wouldn’t storm just yet. They wouldn’t have long to investigate, though, and Ceniro assured both pegasus knights that whenever they said, they would depart immediately. “You’re the experts. I’ve been here… once, and I was just watching Wings do manoeuvres. The weather wasn’t really high on my list of priorities.” Although maybe it should have been… he never knew when he would have to conduct a battle in Ilia.

But for now, he had his two friends to guide him.

They came to the steep mountain and began to climb, Florina guiding them halfway up to a cave carved into the stone, rimed with ice everywhere. It was extremely treacherous, especially for the horses, and all the knights dismounted to lead their horses up on foot.

The cave was very substantial, burrowing back into the mountain, with passages branching off from the side. Pent looked around with great curiosity. “So it’s said a dragon lived here, hmm?”

“Yes,” Florina piped up. “And this kind dragon helped the people of Ilia, who had trouble living in snow year round. But a war broke out between dragons and people… And the kind dragons, not wanting to hurt the humans, went off to a faraway place.”

“Ah,” Pent said, and smiled.

“The tale means Arcadia, doesn’t it?” Erk asked.

“I think it sounds quite reasonable,” Fiora said. “Ah! Who is-”

“Oh, hello!” Canas said, appearing out of one of the side passages. “Pent! Good to see you again! And… the rest of you!” He adjusted his monocle. “Ah yes, Ceniro, and Lady Lyn, and Fiora and Florina and Erk and Wil and Lady Louise, and newcomer! And the rest of you I’m afraid I don’t know.”

Ceniro introduced them, although he was sure Canas wouldn’t remember for a few days, and Canas was mostly interested in Klein, anyway. “Has he shown any promise for magic yet?”

“Mama,” Klein said decidedly.

Pent and Louise laughed. “I haven’t checked,” Pent said. “I do think it’s a bit early. He has the magic toys I made for him, and that will do for now.”

“Ah, yes, capital,” Canas said. “That is a good idea, perhaps I should make some too…”

“Canas!” called a woman’s voice from further back in the cave. “You just said you were going to get more paper, what’s keeping you…”

“Oh, my dear, do come quickly!” Canas called back. “You’ll never guess who it is!”

“I’m sure I won’t,” grumbled the woman, but in a moment she appeared – a green-haired woman in practical red robes rolled up at the sleeves. She stopped and stared at all the mercenaries in the cave. “Canas…?”

Canas was beaming. “May I introduce to you, my good friend from… last year, or whenever… Pent Reglay! Pent, Louise, et al., this is my lovely wife, Nancy.”

Nancy gasped and immediately dropped a curtsey. “Lord Pent! It’s an honour to meet you!”

“And an honour to meet you as well,” Pent said, bowing to her. “I’ve been told you admire my work.”

“Indeed, sir! I’ve read many of your writings, and they’re all so clear and concise, and on such interesting subjects! Oh, I’m very happy. And this must be your famous wife, Lady Louise!”

“That’s me,” Louise said, smiling and curtseying. “I’m very proud of my husband, as you must be proud of yours.”

“Aren’t I just?” Nancy said. “Although the one I’m really proud of is… Hugh! Hugh, where are you? Come here, Mommy has friends for you!” She gave Klein a look. “He might be a little old to play with your boy there, but we’ll see!”

A purple-haired toddler came waddling down to the main part of the cave, pursued by an old woman. “No, you don’t, you imp! It’s dangerous out there! Come have another look at the book.”

“No!” small Hugh cried, waddling faster. “Don’t want to look at bad book! Mummy’s calling me!”

Pent straightened up. “Canas… is that your mother?”

“What? Oh yes, I forgot, you’re rather a fan of hers as well, aren’t you? Mother, there’s someone here you should meet!”

“Humph,” Niime the Mountain Hermit said, giving up on her pursuit of her grandson as he jumped into his mother’s arms. “An Etrurian, by the looks of you, and noble-born, though you’re not wearing the get-up now… and a good idea, too, Etrurian silk is useless for Ilian winters. Tell me, boy, how’s that old rascal Yodel doing?”

Pent blinked, looked as startled as Ceniro had ever seen him. “You know… Bishop Yodel?”

“Know him?” Niime chuckled. “I’ll say I know him. The bastard can be a right charmer when he wants.”

Pent didn’t look like he was going to recover use of his voice any time soon, so Ceniro stepped in. “Bishop Yodel is doing quite well, all things considered. We saw him a couple months ago.” Truth be told, he was a bit taken aback as well, but… old people hadn’t always been old, and even if they were, they could be in love too.

“Good to hear, good to hear. Now, what brings the Mage General-in-exile and his merry band of vagabonds to an Ilian cave at the beginning of winter?”

Pent blinked, coughed, and began. “Canas, you recall last summer, when we had reached that Shrine…”

“Ah, yes, the one Lord Bramimond was residing in, as Lord Eliwood told us. And he unsealed the Legendary Weapons for us, so that we could defeat that power-mad Nergal, yes?”

“Exactly right,” Pent said. “Well, I’m sealing them all again, because I discovered through Lord Athos’s notes that they not only changed the world already, but brought about a calamity known as the Ending Winter. And if they were all gathered in one place again, they could cause the apocalypse.”

“But Lord Bramimond wields Apocalypse,” Canas said, confused.

“ _An_ apocalypse, not the tome Apocalypse, boy,” Niime said, and chuffed her son upside the head.

Canas rubbed his head ruefully. “Ah, right, I understand now. So you are looking for Maltet, then. What luck! So was I.”

“Why’s that?” asked Pent.

“I had a similar idea, to guard it against those who might wish to take it and use it. But if you’ve developed a seal, so much the better. Then I can continue research normally afterwards, instead of becoming some strange ‘guardian of the lance’ or something.”

“And if word got around about it, eventually someone would come and try to kill him, and I’m not holding with that,” Nancy said, Hugh on her hip. “May I help – or at least observe – the sealing?”

“Sure, why not?” Pent said. “But we have to find it first. Have you found it?”

“I’m afraid not,” Canas said. “Come, let’s figure it out together! It will be fun!”

“One more person I should introduce to you,” Pent said, “is this young lady here. This is Rigel from Khafti, and she is a shaman of great potential, I’m told.”

“Splendid!” Canas said, beaming.

Niime was not so unreserved. She squinted at Rigel and took a close look in her eyes. “You have very clear, timid eyes, girl. That’s too bad. Ah, well, I suppose you’ll grow into your power in time.”

“Y-y-yes, ma’am,” Rigel stammered, and Renee reached out and touched her arm for support.

They camped in the cave for the afternoon, and Ceniro for one was interested to explore it. He went with Erk, Wil, Florina, and Lyn, and they wandered around the passages while Erk provided them with light. Florina showed where she had spent the night in the cave, next to an altar-like slab of stone in the back of the cave, explaining that she had come to see the kind dragon, but she never showed up. “Of course, it was foolish to think that she would show up… but I was very young then.”

“And just as brave as you are now, to have gone so far on your own!” Lyn said.

And in the back of one cave, they discovered something very strange. It was a half-decayed, frozen mass of human furnishings. “Did this dragon take human form, as Ninian did?” Erk wondered.

“I guess it’s plausible,” Lyn said. “At least to me, it is. I really wouldn’t know. Ah! What’s this?”

She pushed something over, and they all stared. It was a large painting, one that they’d seen before, or seen a copy of it – in some ruins on the island of Valor, the Dread Isle. Then, Ninian had led them to it, following unexplained feelings and urges in her amnesia.

They hadn’t understood it then. But now…

“That’s the ice dragon,” said Wil finally. “And that’s…”

“Nergal,” Lyn said.

“At least, it looks like him,” Ceniro said cautiously. “It’s a very blurry painting, after all this time in this cave…”

“I think it’s him,” Lyn said firmly. “Which… which would explain what he said as we killed him.”

“I remember,” Ceniro said softly. “He couldn’t remember why he wanted his power. But… if his wife was the ice dragon, and his children were Ninian and Nils… Perhaps all he wanted was to gain the power to bring them home again, to see them one last time. But he was corrupted by the darkness of the magic he used, and Ninian and Nils forgot with time, and all that resulted was tragedy…”

“Not all of it,” Lyn said, and took his hand. He squeezed it. “And you’re very complimentary to the man who spent the better part of the summer trying to kill us and destroy the entire world with dragons.”

Ceniro chuckled. “Maybe I am, but he’s dead now, so I can do that.”

“I wonder… should I tell Ninian?” Florina asked. “Do you think she should know? Or would it only make her unhappy?”

“Well, if she doesn’t already know that her mother was probably this ice dragon, you should tell her that,” Lyn said.

“She knows that, I think… We were talking, that summer, and I told her about when I came here. I didn’t understand everything she said in reply, but I understand now. She asked why I wasn’t afraid of dragons, and she was cheered by the answer I gave her.”

“I wouldn’t tell her,” Wil said. “It would be awkwardness _everywhere_.”

“But Nils was crying when Nergal died,” Lyn said. “Even if he didn’t know why.”

“Still doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be awkward,” Wil said.

“I think you’re right,” Florina said. “I won’t tell her. Besides, it’s only a guess.”

The scholars rounded them up a few hours later, saying they had an idea where to go next. Obediently, the non-scholars followed them out of the cave, down the mountainside, and around to the other side of the mountain. It was not easy going, and Fiora and Florina were watching the sky anxiously as they came to some more ancient pre-Scouring ruins.

They were not alone. Armed men were prowling it, men in ragged clothes and wielding chipped weapons. But there was also the sound of fighting…

“It’s… It’s the Ninth Wing!” Fiora cried. “I recognize Captain Graylea! Ceniro, we must aid them against these bandits!”

“Of course,” Ceniro said, and called orders. The Ninth was pinned by a semicircle of archers; the first thing he had to do was join forces with them. The bandits were not used to fighting people of their caliber, and gave way pretty easily before them. He kept Nancy, Hugh, and Niime out of the fighting; Louise gave Klein to Nancy to hold. He had no doubt Nancy and Niime could fight well if they had to, but he didn’t wish to trouble them, and neither of them volunteered. But Canas… it had been a while since he worked with Canas, and having two dark magic users on the team was almost decadent.

They managed to join Captain Graylea. “The Ninth Wing, I’m told,” Ceniro greeted her.

“And you would be?” Graylea asked sharply.

“Ceniro. I’m the captain of these mercenaries. We’d like to help drive away these bandits.”

“You’re just in time,” Graylea said grimly. “They showed up not too long ago, dozens and dozens of them. My wing is not enough to drive them out… your assistance is greatly appreciated.”

“My pleasure,” Ceniro said, and gave a few more orders. The majority of the bandits appeared to be in another cave in the mountain, a cave with straight carved walls. It was going to be tough to get in there, but they had to; Pent and Canas said Maltet was likely in there.

They made it to the mouth of the cave, with Andy, Frank, and Kent mopping up the bandits who didn’t flee from the pegasus knights. The archers were mostly gone by now, with George and Louise forcing those who were left to keep their heads down.

“Why do you pursue us!?” yelled one of the bandits as they retreated back into the caves. “We didn’t even do anything wrong yet!”

“Your own words give you away!” Graylea called back. “What are you doing here, if not to plan mayhem and murder for your own selfish gain? You bandits are all the same, lazy men who will not turn to an honest living to support yourselves, your families, and your nation!”

“Are you kidding me, this tripe again?” yelled the bandit. He threw down his axe and turned, and Ceniro withheld his forces from attacking. “Look, just because someone can’t make an honest living doesn’t mean we’re lazy! We work hard! We worked hard, too, but in Ilia, even that doesn’t mean anything sometimes!”

“So leave!” Graylea commanded. “Go find work in another country! Or are you too lazy to go there!?”

“Leave our home!? And when you can’t afford to put bread on your table for your family, how are you going to afford to travel to another country? And what do I do there? Send money home? It’ll never make it! Bring my family with me? As if!”

“We’re not all bad!” said another bandit, lurking further back in the cave. “But desperate times call for desperate measures!”

“Including robbing those who have worked hard to support themselves?” Lyn demanded, stepping forward. “Killing those who support themselves? Killing without cause is the height of wickedness!”

“Have you ever starved, lady? Have you ever starved for a month, growing weaker and thinner each day, while you give all that you have to your only child, because your wife is long dead of sickness and your other child is long dead of hunger? Have you done that, and not thought ‘this life isn’t worth living’?”

“No,” Lyn said in a low voice.

“Regardless of your situation, stealing, waylaying, and murder is not permitted,” Graylea said. “You have no sympathy from me. You must be brought to justice.”

“Justice?” said the bandit. “You look at the graves of my wife and son and tell me where is the justice in that!? I was a mercenary. A good one, until I was wounded in the hand and now I can’t hold a sword anymore. And no one wants a mercenary who can’t even hold a sword. I scraped by digging ditches, but there’s only so many ditches to dig, and for every job there’s ten men trying to get it.”

“Save your sob story for the judge,” Graylea ordered, but he went on.

“We don’t kill unless we really have to. I don’t know what bandits are like in other countries, but we’re only trying to get by. We don’t rob people who can’t afford it, and we don’t kill them if they can’t afford it. It’s all we can do.”

Ceniro thought back to the bandits who had accosted him when he first met Lyn, the bandits who’d had no qualms about killing him for having no money, and nodded slowly. If they were telling the truth… and he wasn’t intimately familiar with the Ilian social situation, but they had little reason to lie… then they weren’t wrong. But what could be done for them? If they truly couldn’t find work, how would they live their lives? In any case, he would try not to kill any more of them.

“Not anymore,” said a new voice from in the cave. “We can do anything, now!”

The wind picked up, and snow began to flurry from the sky.

“Uh-oh,” Florina said softly. “We should go…”

They had to get to shelter soon- what was that!?

A bandit emerged from the cave, a big, grizzled man carrying a long white spear with a steel head that glittered like silver, set with sapphire gems. “With this, no one can stand against us!” He raised the spear.

“Get to cover, now!” Ceniro bellowed, and followed action to words. Most of the pegasus knights did as well, but Captain Graylea… “That’s suicide, attacking him alone! Even by my estimation!”

“Then I shall die doing my duty!” Graylea snarled.

The wind picked up, and her pegasus swerved off course, which was probably the only thing that saved her life, at least momentarily – a silver bolt lanced out of the spear and narrowly missed her head. Instead, it tore through her pegasus’s wing, send it plummeting to the ground and tumbling heavily across the landscape. Florina screamed.

“All right,” Ceniro said grimly. “Worst-case scenario. Pent, Erk, we’re going to need a lot of Elfire up here! Canas, Rigel, head around, see if Graylea is alive! Louise, Nancy, Niime, Reglay people, get into the cave on the left _now_! Florina, Fiora, Ninth Wing, get to ground!” The storm was getting worse by the minute, and already he was losing track of his people. “Lyn- Lyn!”

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Nancy, who handed him Klein. “I told you to go in the cave, so you can keep Hugh safe from this storm!”

“Oh, is that what it was for?” Nancy called over the howling wind. “I sent him with my mother-in-law. I want to stand beside my husband. Tell me what to do.”

“All right, he’s about thirty feet that way!” Ceniro pointed with his free hand, though he was losing feeling in his fingers even through his heavy winter gloves. He had to get inside himself soon, regardless of where everyone else was. And if the storm was caused by that lance…

And he couldn’t see Lyn on the farseer anywhere.

“Ceniro!” Louise called. “The cave we’re in – it connects to the cave the bandits are in! You can use that, right?”

“Yes! Everyone, head for the cave!” He yelled into the storm, hoping that some of those he couldn’t see anymore – Lyn, Pent, Erk, Frank, and Wil – would hear and follow it.

Lyn had been in storms before, in Sacae, right? She would be all right. He trudged through the blinding snow, alone, in the direction he had sent Louise earlier. Canas, Nancy, and Rigel should be ahead of him, too.

He made it to a cliff wall and followed it left until he found a crack in the stone and dove in gratefully.

There were Louise, Niime, Hugh, George, Caddie, Yens, Andy, Renee, Kent, Fiora, Florina, and most of the Ninth Wing. “The others didn’t get in, yet?” he asked, panting. Louise came to take Klein from him, rocking him as he snuffled.

Florina looked at him with wide eyes. “N-no. Wil isn’t here yet…”

He went to the mouth of the cave, but there was nothing to see. He turned back away. “Louise, you said there was another entrance into the bandits’ portion of the cave? Perhaps we can sneak up on that leader. That’s all we need, is to stop him. Then perhaps the storm will stop.”

“I doubt it will, boy, but you are correct in that you must kill that man to get the lance away from him,” Niime said.

Hugh began to sniffle. “What’s going on?”

Louise knelt in front of him. “It’s all right, we’re safe out of the cold now. You just stay here and wait for your mother and father, all right? I’ll be with you until they get back.”

“Okay,” Hugh said, wiping his tears with a tiny fist and messing up his own purple hair. He looked a lot like his father already, Ceniro thought randomly, and then turned to the task at hand.

“All right. It looks like that opening over there will give us access to the bandits’ cave. I don’t really wish to kill them anymore, after that eloquent speech, but we can still defeat them, and we will have to kill the leader. Kent, Fiora, that’s going to be your job. I’m not sure how to deal with that… lightning bolt yet, so don’t go running off to attack him without my say-so.”

“We do what we did with Count Dymal’s men?” Yens asked, taking a tighter hold on his lance.

“I think that will be best, yes,” Ceniro said. “I don’t know if they’ll thank us for it; maybe they’d rather die than be injured, or taken prisoner, but I’d rather give them the choice if possible.”

“Understood,” Andy said seriously.

“What is it?” Ceniro asked.

Andy looked at the floor. “There was a time… after we left our lord in Bern… when my brother and I might have been considered bandits a lot like these men. If they’re anything like us, they’ll welcome a second – or third, or whatever – chance to make a new life.”

“I hope so,” Ceniro said.

One of the pegasus knights stepped forward. “In the absence of our commander, Captain Graylea, we will follow your commands, sir.”

“Thank you,” Ceniro said, smiling slightly. He did like working with pegasus knights. “Get ready to move. Caddie, George, you’re leading the charge. Go!”

Ceniro was going to stay with Niime and Hugh and Klein, whom Louise had left with Niime, but the old woman looked at him unexpectedly softly. “Go on, young man. I know you want to be with your friends.”

“Well, yes, but-”

“I am well capable of taking care of myself,” Niime said with a crooked smile. “I’m not called the Mountain Hermit because I sit on my butt all day meditating! I know how to apply elder magic to combat quite well, thank you. You go out there and win this battle. Nothing will happen to my grandson, you can count on that.”

“Thank you,” Ceniro said gratefully, and hurried after Renee.

They burst into the bandits’ cave and found it a wide, sparkling cavern lined with pillars. The leader of the bandits was coming back in, completely covered in snow until he looked like a yeti.

Ceniro grimaced. As far as he could tell, there was no way to block against that silver bolt. And getting hit by the lance itself would probably be worse. “George, Louise, I need you to get his attention! Do not get hit by the bolts! Fiora, make your way around the perimeter behind the pillars, dodge everything else, hit him in the back! Kent, go with her, but be careful – both of you are fast, but you move in predictable paths.”

“Understood,” Fiora said.

If Lyn were here, he’d send her up. But she wasn’t. If Pent were there, or Erk…

Work with what you have, he told himself sternly, another of Garlent’s frequent advices.

George screamed, and Ceniro turned to see he’d been hit by one of the bolts in the leg. “Yens, cover him! Florina, get him a vulnerary!” A vulnerary wouldn’t do much, but he’d been relying on his magic users’ healing staves so much that he didn’t think it was necessary to get the more expensive elixers. Perhaps he should rethink that.

Kent was capably guarding his wife from all those who dared attack her from the ground, and the leader didn’t seem to realize that they were coming up on him. He must have heard Kent’s horse, but he turned at the last moment to see Fiora bearing down on him – the lance swung around – Fiora screamed a war-cry as she stabbed and recoiled in her usual attack pattern-

The bandit leader gurgled and fell, the lance falling from his hand. Kent arrived a moment later and planted his horse over the body, preventing any of the other bandits from coming close.

Ceniro hopped up on a pile of fallen masonry. “Surrender! Your leader is slain, and I and my companions are more than capable of wiping you all out – but we don’t want to!”

The bandit who had spoken at the cave mouth came up to him. “You… you really mean it.”

“I do,” Ceniro said, though he was still holding his katana and the bandit was still holding his axe and both of them were tense as if ready to move. If the bandit really wanted to kill him, he wasn’t sure he could block in time, not with the farseer in his other hand.

The bandit put down his axe. “No one from Ilia would do that for us. I surrender to you.”

Kent took Maltet and followed Ceniro to the back of the cave, a twisty maze of narrow passages, until they came to a small chamber with a weapon stand in the middle of it.

“Well, this is where it goes, I guess,” Ceniro said, and Kent put it there.

They looked at each other. “And now we wait, I suppose,” Kent said.

“Yes,” Ceniro said heavily. “The storm shows no sign of stopping. I still can’t see outside the cave at all, either with my eyes or with the farseer- Do you hear that?”

It sounded like distant thunder.

Lyn huddled next to Pent, Erk, Frank, and Wil in the crevice they had found in one of the buildings. “This isn’t going to work,” she called over the raging storm. “We’re going to freeze to death.”

Across from her, Canas, Nancy, and Rigel nodded. “You’re right, but the wind’s strong enough to blow anyone off their feet right now. We can’t _get_ to a better place. We just have to not freeze, which, considering three of us are anima mages, won’t be a problem. Much.”

“Absolutely right, dear,” Canas said. He had lost his monocle. “I hope Ceniro can defeat that man without our help. He’s really grown since last year, hasn’t he, Pent?”

“Very much,” Pent said. “If anyone can do it, he can.”

“I’m worried that someone actually managed to get to it before us,” Wil said. “

“I’m worried about Captain Graylea,” Frank said. “But like you said, I don’t think even my horse can stand this wind…”

“There’s nothing we can do for her,” Nancy said. “She would say the same.”

“You know her?” Lyn asked.

“Not at all, but based on how she spoke earlier… she’s proud, and devoted to her duty. She understands the harshness of Ilia. She would rather we continue on than come back for her.”

“Yes, it’s lucky that Rigel and Canas managed to join up with us at all,” Lyn agreed. “But Ceniro will come back for us.”

“He’s a good man, then,” Nancy said, smiling. “I heard a bit about him from this reliable source here.” She elbowed her husband. “I’m glad he was taking care of you on the big secret quest you had last summer.”

Erk looked up. “It’s not letting up. In fact, it’s getting worse- What’s that sound?”

Canas looked up sharply. “It’s the ice on the mountain. It’s giving way.”

“That’s not good,” Pent said, equally sharply. “Will it come down on us?”

“I don’t know,” Canas said. “I couldn’t say for certain, but we’re probably in very great danger. The caves, especially… they’ll probably be completely buried. Which would seal off that lance quite well, really. Except…”

“No!” Lyn cried, almost starting to her feet.

Wil put a hand out. “It’s okay, we can blow the ice up after the storm dies down. We have all the magic with us, after all.”

“I don’t think so,” Canas said slowly. “When an avalanche comes down in these mountains, it comes down. And with this storm… It might be days before we’re able to break them out, and by then they might…”

Nancy looked at him. “Canas.”

“Yes, dear.”

They stood together.

“Wait, wait, wait, what are you doing?” Pent exclaimed, standing too, almost getting knocked off his feet instantly by the wind. “The two of you alone – that’s madness!”

Canas smiled. “Ceniro needs the rest of you. We’ll be fine.”

“Erk and I can help, we have Fimbulvetr or Elfire, whichever you need,” Pent pleaded.

“I can help too!” Rigel said. “I only have Luna, but I’ll do whatever I can!”

Nancy shook her head. “No, no, you stay here and out of trouble.”

“They’re not Hugh, dear,” Canas said.

Nancy wrinkled her forehead. “Oh, Hugh…”

Canas turned to Pent. “Take care of Hugh for us, okay?”

“No!” Pent cried, shaking his head. “You’re going to take care of Hugh.”

Canas smiled, looking a bit strained around the eyes. “I know how Ceniro is about saving everyone. But if we don’t go out there, he won’t be able to save himself and the people with him. We’ll do this for him, so that you can save the world again.”

The ice cracked and rumbled ominously again. Rigel caught her breath.

Lyn stepped forward and hugged both of them. “I can see you’re going to be as stubborn as me, so… I won’t try to stop you. But… it’s been an honour knowing you both, and Mother Earth protect you.”

“Thank you, Lady Lyn,” Canas said. “Tell Ceniro not to fret over us, all right? And say goodbye to my mother and son for us.”

“Thank you for your kind words,” Nancy said. “Tell Hugh that we love him very much.”

“Canas…” Pent said, and shook both their hands.

The druid and the sage looked at each other and walked out into the storm hand in hand.

Ceniro stood at the entrance to the cave, trying to see out into the still-swirling storm. It was still impossible, and the mountain had been creaking and groaning for twenty minutes now. Were any of his friends still alive out there? Should he be bracing himself for loss?

Someone plucked at his pants leg, and he looked down to see a small pale face peering up at him from under purple hair. “Where’s Mummy? Where’s Daddy?”

“I don’t know,” he said, then considered that was really not the best thing to say to a small child who looked like he was going to burst into tears. He knelt down beside him. “I don’t know, Hugh, but they’re both really good at what they do, so I bet they’re all right, okay? They’ll come back as soon as the storm goes away, I know it.”

Hugh sniffled. “Okay. Do you have a cookie?”

“I’m afraid not,” Ceniro said. “But you can ask Andy for a cookie. He has the food.”

“Okay,” Hugh said again, and trundled off.

The pegasus knights had taken the remainder of the bandits prisoner and were keeping them quiet in a corner of the cave, so he didn’t have to worry about that.

Louise came up behind him, nursing Klein. “They’ll be all right, Ceniro.”

He looked up at her unhappily, not bothering to hide his worry from her. “How do you know?”

“Because Lord Pent has braved many dangers, and always returned to me,” Louise said simply. “And Lady Lyn is the same for you. Your love will hold you together.”

“You’re right,” Ceniro said, turning back to the snow. “I don’t believe it right now, but you’re right.”

“I must admit, the waiting is hard,” Louise said with a sigh. “But be patient. I know you are good at being patient.”

“Not sometimes,” Ceniro said ruefully. “This might be one of those times.”

“I know, dear.”

The mountain shook, and there was a roar of falling… everything, really, ice, snow, stones, coming down almost right on top of them… but there was some kind of flash, a burst of rainbow colours and a burst of blackness, and somehow, miraculously, the entrance to the cave was still there even when everything had grown still again.

Slowly, the wind began to die.

The farseer was still glitching out when Ceniro first caught sight of figures through the thinning snow and growing darkness. “Lyn!”

He ran from the cave, and she ran to him, and they threw their arms around each other, almost knocking each other over with the force of their embrace.

“I was so worried for you,” she said softly.

“Me!? I was so worried for you! Pent! Wil! Erk, Frank, Rigel, you’re okay!” He looked around. “You didn’t find Captain Graylea? Where’s Canas and Nancy?”

There was a pause long enough to turn his stomach to ice.

“They went to save you,” Lyn said. “We couldn’t find Captain Graylea, but Canas and Nancy went to stop the avalanche and the storm.”

“What?”

“It’s true,” Pent said. “What they did… I’ve never seen anything like it. But it worked.” He pointed, and Ceniro saw with awe and horror that there was a massive pile of fused, blackened ice and stone over to the right; it covered half the valley, sweeping away from the ruins. It had missed the cave mouth and the outside ruins by meters.

“And… they…”

“I think they’re dead,” Pent said softly, his own face showing his grief. “They asked to be remembered to you, and to Niime, and to Hugh.”

“But – they-”

“They know how much you want to save everyone,” Lyn said, holding him tighter. “So they took it upon themselves to do it, because otherwise you and everyone in the cave were going to die. They wouldn’t let us come help, either, because you need us.”

“But…” His voice broke.

“Where’s Mummy and Daddy?” asked a small voice, and now his heart broke too. He turned away from Hugh, because he couldn’t hide the tears streaming down his face.


	12. Episode 11: Sealing, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy oh boy oh boy have some soundtracks!
> 
> [Dark Pit](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YWvqymvcFZY) for the mock battle between Ceniro and Pent  
>  [Rittaikidou](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y2gROOXwrCI) for the long-distance confrontation and charge (and bleeds into the next chapter’s material a bit as well)  
>  [Erosion](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mp2NELJAq74) for the initial panic and thudding pulse  
>  [Mechanical Rhythm](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MZJaTo60JIs) and  
>  [Levi vs. Female Titan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4iuuHeeGbx8) for the rest of the battle

Episode 11: Sealing, Part 1

Spring had come to Elibe again; Klein was one year old. Ceniro and his company were in Bern, hunting high and low for evidence of Eckesachs, the only Legendary Weapon they had not yet sealed away.

They hadn’t had much luck on any fronts; it was as if Eckesachs had never existed. Even the dark mages of Bern weren’t any help. And Ceniro had this nagging worry… Milton had gone back to Bern after his defeat a year ago. He’d had a year to search for the weapon, even if he’d been sending his associates across Elibe for other weapons. Unfortunately, that worry didn’t do anything useful, and it certainly didn’t help find clues, so he tried not to dwell on it. They were doing what they could.

They were in the south end of Bern, taking odd jobs to keep themselves going while Pent, Erk, and Rigel did all the research. Pent and Louise had been recognized only once so far, by random guardsmen, but Ceniro counted them fortunate to have gotten away that time and avoided soldiers as much as they could.

But today they were stopping for lunch by an empty meadow by the small road they were traveling on, heading back north towards more settled lands.

“We should do a proper mock battle, not just those training exercises and sparring matches,” George said as he finished his bread. “Pit Lord Pent against Ceniro.”

“You want us all to get killed?” Yens joked. “No one will survive that!”

“I’ll take that challenge,” Pent said. “I’m curious to see how I match up against the master, after all this time with you.”

Ceniro looked at him, looked at the group. “Sure, why not? It sounds like fun, more interesting than the drills I try to make up.”

“All right, I choose Lyn for my team!” Pent said immediately.

Ceniro laughed. “Of course you do. Then I choose Erk.”

“Louise.”

“Wil.”

“Frank.”

“Andy.”

In the end, it was Pent, Lyn, Louise, Frank, Fiora, Kent, George, and Yens, against Ceniro, Erk, Wil, Andy, Florina, Caddie, Rigel, and Renee.

“Well this is going to be tricky,” Ceniro said cheerfully, when they had retreated to the side of the meadow designated as ‘theirs’. “He already knows what I do, so the obvious plan of attack is to take me out first – especially since I’m not a good fighter. There are many ways he could do this, but one of the most obvious is to send Lyn after me – I’ll never defeat her, and she’s faster than me. She’s also better than most of you, so there’s not much we can do to stop her. All we can do is slow her down. If this were real life, I’d be considering retreat, actually.”

“Wait, you can do that?” asked Wil, grinning.

“There are some things which simply cannot be overcome,” Ceniro answered solemnly. “Lyn is one of those things.”

The others laughed, and he began to position them in a formation that would probably be able to stand up to the power of Pent’s side. Pent had chosen most of the older, stronger fighters, besides Lyn, but Ceniro liked working with the younger people too, watching raw talent and enthusiasm make up for lack of years of experience.

“And he knows that, he knows I’m going to try and take him and Lyn out first, and so he can afford to put a little extra defense around himself… Lyn doesn’t need it, and he can send her anywhere. She’s like the Divine piece in chess…”

He asked Florina, Erk, and Wil to slow down Lyn if at all possible, and resigned himself to doing a lot of running. He’d have to be bait. Rigel would be assigned to take out Pent, and Caddie and Renee would guard her against the inevitable charge from Frank and Kent. And of course Louise was going to be a huge threat as well. But if they could stop Pent and Lyn, then the battle was as good as his.

If. Ha.

He grinned as he looked at the other side of the field, his heart pumping in anticipation. He wasn’t using the farseer today; Pent didn’t have one, so it would have been an unfair advantage for either side. “Go!”

Immediately, Lyn came for him, and he ran away, pretending to scream in panic. He ran past Renee, who was giggling so hard she could hardly hold her spear straight, and towards where Florina was going to make a dive. He heard a whoosh behind him, and knew it was Erk setting off a spell. Then Erk yelped, but when he looked around, he was running, so he wasn’t tagged out yet. “Erk! Get Kent! Wil! Look out for Fiora!”

“Damn!” Fiora cried as Wil tagged her pegasus with a padded arrow. “I didn’t properly get a shot at anyone!”

“Next time,” Pent called, casting, grinning, and Wil disappeared in a cloud of dust.

Wil reappeared, coughing and spluttering. “Gee, thanks, Lord Pent!”

“Hey, it wasn’t Thunder,” Pent said cheerfully.

At that moment they heard a soft mumbling and cooing, and then an odd gnawing sound…

“W-what’s that?” Rigel asked, looking around frantically.

“Oh!” Louise cried. “It’s Klein. I’m sorry, he’s gotten into your things. Just one moment…”

“Pause!” Ceniro called, and everyone sat down to catch their breath. There was a lot of giggling going on, especially when Louise pried the farseer out of Klein’s hands and they could all hear it – and Klein’s wail as he tried to get it back.

“No, Klein!” Louise said firmly. “Not a toy! Come here, have one of your own toys.”

“I’ll watch him,” Fiora said, taking him from Louise. “Come on, Lord Klein, we’re going to watch your parents do amazing things!” She carried him to the edge of the field, where they’d get a better view. Louise hurried back to her place.

“Ready?” Ceniro called. “Resume!” Where was he? Oh yes, running away from Lyn some more. And now he was down Wil. Drat.

After about half an hour, he was getting a little bored. Combat swirled fast and graceful around him, thrilling to watch if he’d had time, but Pent’s orders were rather predictable, and now Renee, Kent, and Caddie were down, sitting on the edge of the field with Wil, Fiora, and Klein. And Lyn was _still_ chasing him across the entire field.

So he began to be a brat. “No, Frank, don’t attack Florina, attack Andy. Andy, get the hell out of there. Louise, shoot Florina. Florina, get Pent. Pent, do whatever you want. Lyn, you better keep chasing me if you want me to shut up!”

“Oh, you just wait!” Lyn and Pent called at the same time, and he giggled as he ran.

“You just want a beautiful girl to run after you!” Wil yelled.

“Of course he does,” Renee said. “Who wouldn’t?”

“Yens, go tag out Rigel so she can sit with her girlfriend,” Ceniro called. “Rigel, you’re on my team, so if you let Yens tag you out just so you can sit with Renee, you’re packing up all the lunch things!”

“Worry about your own fate!” Rigel snarked back, and he looked around to see that Lyn was two steps closer than she’d been for the last five minutes. Panic spurred him to a sudden spurt of speed, taking him farther out into the field and away from everyone else. He heard the whisper of a sword and figured it was time to turn and defend himself before she slashed him in the back.

But he couldn’t get his sword out in time- “Ahhh- ahhhhhh! Lyn! No, no, no, Lyn, no!” But it was too late, he couldn’t get away, she dove on him and tackled him to the ground.

“Ha!” she exclaimed triumphantly. “Got you! I win!”

“You mean Pent wins,” he said, grinning back at her as she sat on him, both of them panting for air after their long run.

“Nope. I win!”

“Oh?” He reached up and dragged her down for a breathless kiss; she struggled for the briefest of moments before taking back the initiative and snogging him so hard he thought he saw stars. At least he had the presence of mind to wrap his arms around her and hold her close to him, weaving his fingers into her long, silky hair.

“Yeah,” she said more softly as they broke apart, both gasping for air and not entirely because of their exercise now. “I win.”

“We both win,” he answered, just as softly, and she kissed him again. He broke away, rolling them over so he was on top, dove for the spot under her jaw that she liked, and her arms tightened around him as she tilted her head back.

“Bow chicka ow ow!” Wil yelled from camp, though Ceniro was pretty sure he couldn’t see them in the tall grass.

“Shut up, Wil!” they both yelled back, and heard giggling from the distance.

Early the next morning when they were packing camp, Ceniro first noticed the farseer was missing. It wasn’t in the pouch it was usually in, and they hadn’t moved from that spot yet. “Louise? What did you do with the farseer after you took it away from Klein?”

“I put it in its little bag and put it under a blanket so he wouldn’t find it again,” Louise answered, violet eyes wide with concern. “Why, is it not there?”

“It’s not there. Has anyone seen it?”

Everyone searched, searched through their things and searched the ground all around, even as far as they’d been fighting, although he knew it couldn’t have gone that far.

“That’s the strangest thing,” Pent said. “It must be around here somewhere.”

“It’s not like I really need it or else we can’t win,” Ceniro said, still turning around in circles, trying to think of other places to look. “But if it’s here, I really don’t want to just leave it here…”

Pent looked at him sharply. “You think it might not be here? That maybe someone stole it?”

“It’s not impossible. But that would mean there was someone who knew what it was and who was clever enough to sneak into our camp without anyone noticing, maybe during the fight yesterday, and remove it again without making any noise.”

“They could turn off the sound,” Pent said. “But you’re right, that does sound a bit unlikely.”

“You can’t sense it or anything?”

“The short answer is no,” Pent said, and Ceniro grimaced in disappointment. “It’s an oversight, I know. I should have thought of that when I made it.”

They’d been looking for an hour, and there wasn’t a trace of it. They had to move on, so reluctantly, he gave the order to continue packing up and leave. But he was unsettled.

They hadn’t gone far along the road when they heard an urgent clatter ahead of them and saw a cluster of knights, maybe ten of them, and in front, two vaguely familiar figures, one with short golden curls, the other with a shock of brown hair.

“Oh!” Lyn said. “Isn’t that…”

“Prince Zephiel?” Pent finished. “And General Murdock? I wonder what brings them out here?”

The prince caught sight of them and abruptly raised a hand, signalling his knights to stop, and brought his horse to a stop with grace, even though he was looking wide-eyed and anxious. “What is your name, mercenaries?”

Pent and Ceniro looked at each other. “We’re Ceniro’s Elite Company,” Ceniro said. “I’m Ceniro. What can I do for Your Highness?” Murdock’s eyes narrowed, but then the general nodded. He remembered him?

Zephiel dismounted and stumbled towards Ceniro. “Please, Master Ceniro, I need your help! My – my family has been captured, maybe killed, but maybe it’s not too late…!”

Ceniro jerked back in surprise. “How-”

“I’m not sure, it happened so fast. Mother was visiting Father in the castle of Armica, and I had come in secret… I wanted to see my sister… But a great army surrounded the castle, and I saw the second son of the Duke of Tulgren go in with great purpose. Murdock rescued me with these knights-”

“Wait,” Ceniro said. “Son of the Duke of Tulgren – Milton of Tulgren?”

“Yes, indeed. Master Ceniro, will you not come and see if my family can be saved? You are their only hope. I have heard how you overcome anything set before you.” He turned to Pent. “Lord Pent, yes? I know you and Lady Louise were wrongly exiled. I know you saved me, not tried to kill me. I could not convince my father before, but if we save him, surely he will agree to clear your name!”

“Your Highness,” Murdock murmured. “Surely you are not thinking of going back yourself…”

“Of course I am, Murdock! I-I must see if Guinevere is all right!”

“If your father has been murdered, you are the only hope for Bern!” Murdock insisted.

Ceniro looked at them, interrupted the argument. They could settle that later. “I’ll come, but I need more information. What happened to the Bern Army? How many soldiers does Milton have? Where has he placed them? What’s the terrain like around the castle? I’ve lost my tactical device so I’m going to be at a slight disadvantage.”

Murdock looked less happy about this than ever, but Zephiel held out a hand and Murdock gave him a map of the area. Ceniro got George to hold it while they peered at it. The castle of Arnica was at the top of a small mountain or large hill; to the north were more hills, growing to proper mountains to the north-east. A river wound in from the north-west to the south-east, and while the entire map was dotted with both forests and fields, most of the forests seemed to be on the east and the fields on the west. “The Bern Army was not present,” Murdock said. “They are doing manoeuvres in Valhalen under the command of General Calum. Lord Milton has maybe five hundred men, including a hundred wyvern riders.”

Ceniro grimaced and raised his eyebrows. “Wonder where he got them from.”

“I believe he’s allied himself with several other lords,” Murdock said. “Lord Harrigan, Lord Westvale, Lord Gauss, I saw all their liveries as we fled.”

“Lord Gauss?” Andy piped up, and Ceniro was startled to see he looked angry. “He’s the one who abandoned us, the one we couldn’t stand to serve. If we can bring him to justice…”

“Not the goal,” Ceniro said tersely, and Andy settled back, still frowning. “The best way, it would seem, is to avoid all of that by going through the forest. It’ll slow us down a little, but the wyverns will find it much harder to spot us, then. But even slowed, speed is going to be our ally. We can’t get dragged into any fighting or else it will make it much harder to capture Milton. Besides, someone might get hurt and I’ll need everyone to help hold the castle.”

“Capture Lord Milton?” Murdock frowned. “How will that help? He has an army.”

“He has an army that will be looking for us outside the castle,” Ceniro said. “Florina and Fiora will be decoys; they’ll lead the army to search for us around the hills to the north-west.” He looked at Murdock. “But you’re right. Even if we take out Milton, prevent him from commanding his army, his army is well capable of fighting on its own. Unless we can really break it into piecemeal bits, we won’t be able to hold the castle for long, even if we take it with the gate intact. How far away is the Bern Army?”

“Not more than a couple hours,” Murdock said. “I can send one of my knights to get them.”

“Send two,” Ceniro said. “We just need to get to Milton and De- King Desmond before anything happens and wait for those reinforcements.” While shooting down every wyvern rider they possibly could.

“Very well,” Murdock said, and gestured to two of his knights, who immediately continued south on the road with all speed.

Ceniro turned to Zephiel, feeling a little funny that the prince, who had been about the same height as him the last time they met, now towered over him. “Do you want to fight?”

“Yes!” Zephiel exclaimed. “I have been trained well! Please don’t leave me behind!”

“Then you can fight,” Ceniro said. “But you must trust me completely, and obey every one of my orders without question.”

The prince hesitated for the barest second. “My fate is in your hands.”

Ceniro smiled reassuringly at him. “Then everything will be fine.” He looked at Murdock. “You’ll be at his side always, of course. I suspect you fight better together.”

“Thank you,” Murdock said shortly.

Belatedly, he turned to the rest of the team. “I didn’t even ask you all… Do you want to fight? This is going to be the most difficult battle I’ve ever conducted, and you have no real reason to be in it. You least of all, Pent, Louise. If you’d like to sit this one out, that’s fine.” Although he really needed every single one of them…

Lyn snorted. “How are you expecting to win without your team? We’re with you.”

“You haven’t led us wrong yet,” Pent said. “This sounds difficult, not to mention tiring, but we’ll give it our all.”

“We trust you,” Louise said. “I’m not leaving Lord Pent’s side.”

“Lord Gauss aside, I’ll follow wherever you lead,” Andy said. “And didn’t you already say you needed everyone?”

“I’m definitely coming!” Renee said. “I need to see this!”

“Then I’m coming,” Rigel said. “I hope Vellith isn’t there today…”

The rest chorused their agreement with determination, and he stared at them gratefully. “I… thank you. I do need you. I won’t let you down.”

“That’s all we could ever ask for,” said Kent.

With Murdock in the lead, they hurried on their way. Ceniro told Fiora and Florina to fly low, and that he would tell them when to split off to do their decoy work. It was only a few minutes before they saw a swell of hills to the right of the road and Murdock pointed towards them. “Past those hills is a road that leads across the fields to the castle. We used it while escaping, chased all the way, but your plan calls for us to leave the road and turn north now, does it not?”

“That sounds right. But first I want to get a quick look at the terrain from that hill,” Ceniro said. “Lyn, with me. Everyone else, stay put.”

He climbed to the top of the hill, which gave him a wonderful view of the river valley before him, and the line of hills on the other side with the castle in the centre. It was maybe an hour’s walk away; a bit less by horse, or even if they ran, but a bit more if they had to fight, which they probably would. And maybe ten minutes flying, which was never fair, but that was how it was. He couldn’t see into the forest; hopefully any wyvern riders that showed up wouldn’t be able to either.

Speaking of which… He frowned. Where were all the wyvern riders?

“Ceniro of Santaruz,” said a deep voice in his ear, and he stiffened. Down below, he heard all movement from his friends cease as well. They’d all heard it.

“Milton,” he said in a low voice, and Milton chuckled mirthlessly.

“I thought you would come. I let Zephiel escape, to see if he would find you. You always bested me before, in training, and I wonder what would have happened if our positions had been reversed at Tanquet Pass. So now I challenge you – come, with your little band of followers, come to my wyverns, to my paladins, to my fortifications, while I hold your farseer and Eckesachs. If you do not, I will kill King Desmond and his whole family before hunting you down like the cowardly rat you are and wiping out every one of you.”

As Milton spoke, wyverns rose from the hills around the castle, a hundred of them like Murdock had said, swooping towards them on ominous green wings. One of them was close enough to spiral around the hill on which he stood, until an arrow from Lyn beside him made it shy away and back to its fellows in the distance. Columns of knights, mounted and on foot, emerged from behind the hills, sweeping over the fields to the east. What had seemed like a quiet countryside only a few minutes before was now thick with enemies.

Ceniro didn’t even ask how Milton knew he was in the area. Of course he knew; he had somehow obtained the farseer, which meant he had known since yesterday exactly where they were. Why he hadn’t attacked then, with this overwhelming force, however… Maybe he had been discomfited by the lack of a fortification to base his forces from. Maybe he wanted to kill two birds with one battle. Maybe, maybe, maybe. He glared at the far-off castle, as if his sight alone could pierce distance, stone, and Milton’s mind, to see what he was thinking. “What will you gain by this?”

“Did you know where Eckesachs was this entire time? I suppose you did not, or else you would have been here by now on your little quest to conceal the strongest sources of power in Elibe. So that you can clearly grasp how futile your situation is, I will tell you: Eckesachs was in the hands of the King of Bern… and he cannot wield it.”

“And you can,” Ceniro said.

“I can. Hartmut has chosen me as a worthy wielder of his sword. And now Bern will no longer have a jealous, incompetent coward for a ruler, but a strong, thoughtful one, the true heir of one of the Legendary Weapons! All that remains is for me to destroy you, the one person who I could never best.”

“Not in a fair fight, at least,” Ceniro said, looking at all the wyverns. He’d have to finish up with the verbal sparring and get his forces moving very soon. He sighed a deep breath. “Well. Unlike you, I am not a citizen of Bern. Her leadership currently affects me very little. I have no reason to throw myself and all my friends into a situation where every condition is against me. Even if I do make it to you, even if I managed to kill you, you know as well as I do that your army can still overwhelm my people and throw Bern into absolute chaos. And I certainly am not responsible for you or your decisions.”

“Ceniro?” Lyn asked quietly, looking at him.

He drew his sword and pointed it at the distant castle, his face hard and determined. “But it is my responsibility to stop you, because no one else can. And someone asked me to, and I’ll honour my promise. That you should threaten Princess Guinevere is unthinkable. So I’ll attempt even the impossible, because I have to.”

“We’ll see how much of that confidence is left when you’ve made it here,” Milton said grimly. “Renee, of all the people with him, you are the one I would spare the most. You, at least, should retreat.”

“No!” Renee cried. “There’s far too much at stake here! You don’t understand about the Weapons, you don’t understand about Ceniro, and I’m not leaving my girlfriend!”

“So be it. I’ll try to make your death quick and painless.” And there was silence.

Ceniro lingered a second more, tried to figure out what was ahead of them, how Milton was going to be using the terrain to his advantage. _Think_. It had looked like most of his forces had been in the fields; they would be using the open terrain to move south level with them, and then force their way east into the forest to cut them off. His people would have to move north and stay east to try to avoid them.

“All right,” he said, hurrying down the back of the hill to his people. “We have no time to be clever, and Milton can hear every word we say. He can also see every step we take. Lyn, you might be able to evade his sight if you’re particularly stealthy.”

“I will stalk him like a wolf,” Lyn growled.

“Everyone else…” He gestured, telling them who they should group with. “And _don’t stop_. For anything. Unless I tell you otherwise. He knows me and the gist of my style, so I’m going to have to bluff and double-bluff and triple-bluff him while explaining nothing to you, and you, you all have to be pure chaos here. Milton doesn’t like chaos.”

“How exactly are we getting past them?” Kent asked. “Anything like when you assaulted Castle Caelin?”

“A bit, except they know almost exactly where we are. There’ll be no chance to sneak up this time. The only advantage we have is that unless he’s been drilling them with the farseer since he stole it, his troops are going to be slow to react. I’m not going to pretend it’s going to be easy: we’re going to need a lot of speed, a lot of skill, and a whole lot of luck. Ready?”

“No,” Rigel said.

Lyn squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back and gave her a quick kiss. No time for anything else.

“Too bad,” he said to Rigel with a grin. “Go!”

Kent was appointed captain of the cavalry, and he, Fiora, Florina, Andy, Frank, and four of Murdock’s knights galloped off around the hill into the forest, and the rest of them began to sprint after them. It was true that it would slow them down some and they had no guarantee of concealment from the enemy now, but going through the fields would be even worse. There, they would make better time, and every wyvern on the field would be able to see them and swarm them at once. Not a good trade off. The wyverns would be on them soon enough as it was.

And there was no point in sending Fiora and Florina as decoys. He had ordered them to stay low, ground-bound as much as possible, and not to break the forest canopy except in dire need. With luck, the wyverns would not be able to spot them quickly, might even miss them below. Well, probably not the cavalry – the thunder of their hooves made that difficult, even, as he guessed it might be, muffled by the trees. But the rest of his group might make it through in their wake, and he hoped the battlefield would either be still peaceful or hopelessly confused by that point – either would make things easier for him.

What they needed most besides speed was momentum. If they got caught partway there by a few soldiers, fine, but they couldn’t get bogged down in fighting every soldier that came at them. And Kent knew it too. The two sides would undoubtedly be charging at each other, but if his groups could break through and continue on, and if the other side charged past them and took even a short time to regroup, that would help him too. Although on the other side of the river, they’d be going uphill, which could really kill their charge… and them…

But would Milton be sending his soldiers in waves, or in a solid group? Either had its advantages and disadvantages for Milton… They’d probably be in waves, he decided, and hoped he was right. Now just how many of them were in the forest ahead of them…?

Even now as he ran beside Zephiel, who was once again on horseback, with Murdock and the rest of his knights behind them, he felt the old pressure of frustration of _not knowing_ what was ahead of him, where his people were, of not being able to help them directly, directing them to the weak points of the enemy’s formation to shatter it into retreating. His pulse was pounding; he could feel it in his throat, in his chest, in his hands: a combination of running, nerves, and pure, desperate adrenaline. He knew it wouldn’t stop until after the battle. But it usually helped him rather than hindered him, streamlining his thoughts and sparking the sort of crazy but effective ideas that upset Renee whenever she saw them.

He couldn’t hear Milton; he was probably giving orders to his own troops. Even if he’d somehow found a way to temporarily switch it back to its original settings to converse with him on the hilltop, it wasn’t possible to talk to the ones marked as enemies, which meant Ceniro and his group right now.

“You think you can fool me by sending your cavalry on ahead?” Milton’s voice. Speak of the devil.

“Kinda busy, here, go away,” Ceniro growled back. Well, he wasn’t fighting or giving orders, but he was _thinking_ , and running, and didn’t have energy for much else.

A low chuckle. “I certainly shall not. I have all the advantages, but against your nonsensically effective tactics, I want it all. If you are already admitting you’re off-balance, you are basically admitting you are only rushing to your death.”

“You’ve picked this battle very carefully, I can tell. You want so badly to beat me just once, is that it?”

“I only need to beat you once. Of course, it would be satisfying if you did manage to make it here so that I could take care of you myself. But having my soldiers destroy you before you even make it here would be even more satisfying.”

“Don’t count me out yet,” Ceniro said, and had an idea. With Milton talking to him, that meant… “Kent! Report!”

“Scouts encountered and defeated,” Kent said rapidly. “About to cross the river. Expecting heavy resistance on the-”

Ceniro grinned as the farseer cut out. If Milton wanted to bait him, he’d have to open a channel for Ceniro to talk to his friends as well. It was a good thing there wasn’t really a direct communication option on the farseer… although he supposed Milton could mess with the volume so that Ceniro and he were the most prominent. So he’d have to yell to get through to his group. Well, he could yell. It would drive Milton crazy if nothing else.

And the next time the Milton turned the farseer to his group, he’d certainly get an earful of everyone trying to talk to Ceniro at once, he was sure. And either Ceniro would be able to communicate, or Milton would give up and let him _plan_. Either was good. And now he knew there would be fewer scouts directly ahead… but Milton would probably be sending in a pile of soldiers to make up for it. So they’d have to go around and look for more scouts on purpose.

A horrible scream came from his right and without even thinking he bolted towards it. A stray thought in the back of his mind pointed out that sane people would run away from the screams of dying men, but it sounded like Wil and if Wil was in trouble, Ceniro needed to help. Who was with Wil’s group? Should have been Yens, Caddie, and Erk. As his brain caught up to his actions, he figured that he was probably closest to Wil’s group anyway. He just hoped Florina hadn’t heard or recognized the scream…

He noticed Zephiel had altered course to stay behind him as he crashed through the undergrowth, and Murdock and his knights had followed him. What was that? Murdock was trying to say something to him.

“Sir Ceniro! Leave your man and press on! We will fail in our mission if we stop now!”

“Shut up and keep moving!” Ceniro snapped back. Utterly rude, and he saw Zephiel flinch, but he couldn’t deal with this puzzle, the panic over Wil’s scream, Milton’s nagging, _and_ insubordinate generals who weren’t used to taking orders from anyone, let alone his idiosyncrasy, all at the same time.

Even if they had to leave Wil behind, he wasn’t going to let him die.

“Sir Ceniro-”

A quintet of wyverns tore through the treetops, trying to encircle them. Drat. He wasn’t up to fighting wyverns personally-

Yes, he was. He was just another weak unit, but even weak units could be effective. “You two that way! You two, that way! Murdock, take out that one! Zephiel, with me!”

“But I’m sworn to prot-”

“Do it!” Ceniro yelled at Murdock. The wyverns were closing fast. If any more reinforcements showed up right now…

Not time to worry about that. Time to fight. He relaxed his deathgrip on his katana so he could swing it properly, and charged at the wyvern, straight at terrifying, roaring fangs and claws. “Zephiel! I’ll keep its attention! Get around it!” He’d seen Legault and Guy do it before…

“Aye!” Zephiel turned his horse’s charge slightly, away from the wyvern rider’s lance; of course the rider had heard his order, but apparently the rider thought them both easy prey.

And as the rider turned his wyvern to anticipate Zephiel, Ceniro ducked in even closer under the lance, dashing around behind the dangerously flailing wing, narrowly avoided getting knocked over by the lashing tail or stepped on, braced himself, grabbed hold of the rider’s leg, dragged him off, and slashed.

Blood spurted over his blade, and he nearly froze, mumbling an instinctive, strangled “sorry-!” but the rampaging wyvern beside him snapped him out of his shock and he nearly tripped over his own feet scrambling away. A moment later the wyvern screeched and fell still.

Zephiel appeared a moment later, cantering around with his sword also bloody. “I thought I was supposed to…”

“Bluff,” Ceniro said. “Let’s go help Murdock as fast as we can, we can’t stay here!”

Even as they cleared out the other four wyverns, a big piece of his brain was playing that moment on repeat, that moment when his sword had sliced cleanly through the wyvern rider’s throat between his chestplate and his helmet. He shook himself, then slapped himself hard. He couldn’t be distracted by that right now.

It wasn’t as if he’d never used his sword to harm another person before. He’d fought in battles since he’d started being a mercenary, using himself as he would any other unit, albeit a very green one at first.

It was just the first time he’d actually killed someone.

He heard an explosion. Erk was still fighting! So Wil would be nearby… if he was still alive.


	13. Episode 12: Sealing, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtracks!  
> Lyn vs. Milton: [Armageddon](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MWEGMBq6EBE)  
> Ceniro and Milton: [Not Alone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vK1jGsMxR_Y)  
> Bonus: I like this song for Pent and Louise in general: [Beyond the Canyon](https://youtu.be/0fLrw3Ih3Ro)
> 
> I’m hoping this chapter isn’t too over the top, but then Karel is literally a one-man-army-slayer in canon so it’s probably fine. XD

Episode 12: Sealing, Part 2

He burst into a small clearing that was very much on fire, looked around, and took charge. “Murdock, Zephiel, knights, charge the knights on the left! Caddie, don’t extend too far, let Yens take the one on the right! Erk… keep at it!”

Erk had been driving back a wyvern who’d landed almost right on top of Wil, who lay sprawled on the ground at its feet, a lance through his upper thigh terrifyingly close to his abdomen. Ceniro took his sword in both hands and ran past them, towards the footsoldiers that Caddie and Yens were fighting together.

With a screech, the wyvern collapsed in a pile of wings and Wil screamed again as the lance was ripped from his leg. Ceniro almost ran back, but forced himself to focus. “Erk-!”

“I have him!” Erk called, the swirling sounds of healing meeting Ceniro’s eager ears.

Sword clashed on lance-haft. His hands were still shaking, had been shaking ever since he charged that wyvern a few minutes ago. He was at a disadvantage here, while Caddie and Yens were not. Murdock was handling things on the other side of the clearing. They could be done here in two minutes… He sidestepped another lance-thrust, twisting so as to avoid yet another soldier, grabbed a lance and yanked. The lance came away and he lunged forward to capitalize on it, only to backstep abruptly as the soldier’s companions moved to block their disarmed comrade.

Suddenly he found that every soldier not already fighting the others was trying to attack him. “Milton, what did you tell them!?” he shouted at the top of his lungs, backing away, batting spearpoints away from his unarmoured body. “You think my friends will stop fighting because I’m dead? No way!” He gritted his teeth and kept blocking.

But hey, he wasn’t fighting like a newbie anymore. Lyn had trained him well. He’d probably survive long enough for his friends to save him.

“Hang in there,” Yens said with an encouraging note in his voice, moving to his other side to counterattack some of the soldiers. Caddie gave a roar and swung, driving them back and away from him. The two Reglay soldiers were working smoothly together and it gave Ceniro a second to catch his breath, wipe his sweaty forehead with a shaking arm. Then it was back to it – he had to support them with all he had, too.

He moved back to Yens’s other side and caught one on the edge of the group; ducking under the lance and moving forward low and fast, as Lyn had taught him, and slashed up. Blood spilled over the blade, spattered his face, and he shuddered as the soldier collapsed with a gurgling cry. He wanted to apologize again.

The clearing was beginning to look reasonably empty, and he turned back to Erk and Wil. “How is he?”

“He’ll be all right,” Erk said. “He was pretty badly injured, though.”

Wil sat up, cross-eyed. “Oh gods, I don’t want to do that again. Ah- ahhh, I don’t think I can stand…” He held out a hand to try anyway. Erk and Ceniro tried to pull him to his feet, but his right leg wouldn’t support his weight. “Nope! Not happening, not right now. It doesn’t hurt, it just… can’t take it right now.”

“All right,” Ceniro said. “Murdock, I need one of your knights to take Wil. Wil, you can still shoot from horseback, right?”

“Yep! Just point me in the right direction and I’ll shoot ’em all.”

“All right. You, stay with Erk, Caddie, and Yens, keep Wil safe. Do as Erk says. We’ll see you at the castle. Now keep moving!”

“You’re bleeding,” Erk said, and raised his staff.

Ceniro felt his cheek. “So I am. It’s just a cut. Save your energy. Go on!”

They split up again.

He caught sight of Pent’s group over to the left and swerved towards him. “How is it?”

“No sign of enemies so far,” George said. “I’m hoping that’s because we’re lucky and not because this tactician of yours has a big trap ahead.”

Ceniro thought about it as they jogged on. “It’s possible, but we’ll hear them before we see them. Watch your left.”

And – there was another wave of knights, bigger than the one they’d faced before, charging them from the left. “Get to cover!” Ceniro bellowed, and his people scattered to the sides… into a perfect encirclement. Oh, he was glad he had drilled that move. Murdock and his knights were not so quick to react, but Ceniro grabbed Zephiel and pulled his horse away from an oncoming knight.

Then there was a roar from behind him, and he turned to see that his encirclement had been encircled by footsoldiers. Many, many footsoldiers. Including mages! What a pain.

“You know you will be defeated here,” Milton said. “You have not even faced half of my army. How does that make you feel?”

“One mistake and you’re mine, as usual,” Ceniro retorted, gesturing to his forces to attack. This was going to be close… “How does that make _you_ feel?”

Milton snorted derisively and stopped talking again.

Momentum. The enemy cavalry had lost it, they could safely ignore them momentarily; between the forest and the fact that they would prefer to maintain unit cohesion and therefore charge as a group, he could probably predict where they’d go. He moved George and Rigel out of their likely charge arc while bunching his people up in two groups to support each other against the swordsmen. “Renee, go for the mage! Pent will back you up! Murdock, support me, I’m going after the other mage, don’t get too close… but keep those swordsmen off me!”

He dodged a fireball with a high-pitched yelp and charged recklessly, his heart pounding with adrenaline and fear. He really didn’t want a fireball to the face…

Another fireball shot past him and he ducked reflexively, and he heard one of the knights scream. There were three swordsmen moving to cut him off, but with a drumming of hooves, Zephiel charged past, taking down one and driving the rest back a little.

“Thanks,” Ceniro called, and didn’t tell him to watch himself.

“My pleasure,” the prince called back, coming around again to rejoin Murdock. The injured knight was being tended to by Rigel. The enemy cavalry were regrouping after their second failed charge… He needed to take out the mage now. Why was he so far away!?

The mage stopped targeting the knights and began aiming at him, and about five swordsmen veered towards him. Milton trying to assassinate him again… He almost tripped over a fireball, his charged staggering sideways with the force of the explosion, and then – then the mage ran away and he was being surrounded by swordsmen. He was going to die, he was going to die-

He wasn’t going to die. “Murdock!” He didn’t want the armoured, predictable targets of the knights too close to the mage, but he had no choice. “Zephiel, go after the mage!” He blocked a sword, all the while bracing to get stabbed in the back. A sword sliced past his left side and he flinched, but he hadn’t been stabbed yet…

Murdock’s charge took out two of the swordsmen, the ones behind him, and he could focus better on fighting the ones in front of him. “Right, now go support Zephiel!” Zephiel and Murdock were back in a moment, clearing him of the rest of the swordsmen that faced him.

When he had a moment to look around, he drew in breath through his teeth slowly. Murdock’s three knights were trying to hold off Milton’s cavalry by themselves, while Pent and Rigel supported the rest of his people against the swordsmen trying to surround them and overwhelm them. That was all wrong. But Renee had taken down her mage. “Pent! Rigel! Drive off the cavalry! Knights, go attack the swordsmen! George, pull back, you’re going to be isolated!” No almost-losing-the-battle-because-of-a-single-archer this time, or Renee would never let him hear the end of it.

But Milton’s attempt to take him out had left the north end weak; if he could just disentangle his people from the south end, they could break through and keep heading north into the forest without too much pursuit.

Slowly, his people clawed their way back from Milton’s trap to a position where they could do just that, one at a time. How far did they still have to go? Too far. They hadn’t even reached the river yet.

Five minutes later, he splashed across the river and began the long climb up the other side, wondering how far ahead Kent’s group had gotten.

And there was a clatter as yet another wave of enemies appeared on the path ahead of them.

“Nope, nope, nope…” There was no punching through that, not with Milton’s heavy knights in front and archers in behind. They’d have to disengage somehow and make their way around. But on this slope… and the horses… And his people were getting tired, and they needed to save some energy for assaulting the castle, especially his magic users. “George, keep those mages’ heads down. Rigel, Renee, Pent, head off to the right, take cover from arrows! Murdock, defensive line for a few moments… Keep it up, everyone, this will only take a short while!” He joined the rest of his people on foot. “Pull back, George, Murdock!” He turned to Pent. “I don’t want to spend too much of your energy right now, but can you knock over this tree behind Murdock?”

“Sure I can,” Pent said, getting ready to cast. But apparently Milton had heard him and had warned his troops, because they were wary of following Murdock.

And then there was a shower of arrows in their direction. Everyone ducked back behind trees and rocks. “Time to move!” Ceniro shouted, and they ran north even though the terrain was terrible in that direction. It would slow down the armour knights at least.

They reached a cliff, and he knew they were close – the castle was at the top of the cliff. Now… left or right? There was a way up in both directions. The main gate was towards the left, the postern gate towards the right, he remembered from Murdock’s map. “Everyone but the knights, head left! Murdock, take Zephiel and your knights right and then join up with us once you’ve reached the top of the cliff!”

“Aye,” Murdock said gravely and cantered off. Ceniro led the rest up the western slope.

The main gate of the castle was relatively undefended; a few archers, but it looked like Milton had put most of his defenders on the postern gate on the other side of the castle. _Ha!_ He had made his mistake, expecting Ceniro to do what he normally did. They had a few seconds to break through before reinforcements showed up. And before their pursuers caught up to them.

Without breaking the gate, if possible… He couldn’t call in Fiora and Florina, he wasn’t sure where they were, and the archers made that rather dangerous anyway. “We need something… crazy.” He turned and looked critically at Pent and Rigel.

Rigel looked nervous. “What are you looking at me for?”

“We’re going to do something that no one’s tried before. Ready?”

“No.”

“Come now,” Pent said, with an encouraging pat on her shoulder. “Your skills are up to whatever he has in mind. Be confident!”

“I need you to bring me that tree over there,” Ceniro said, pointing back down into the valley. Murdock came up, an arrow sticking out of his pauldron, and Ceniro acknowledged him with a nod.

Rigel’s pale blue eyes widened incredulously. “Why yes, you are crazy. That’s so far!”

“I’ll help you,” Pent said, folding his hands and closing his eyes.

“Murdock, shield her from arrows,” Ceniro ordered, and the knight moved closer, holding out his shield over her head. The archers were almost in position…

She closed her eyes too, reaching out with one hand and the other holding Luna, a black sphere forming in front of her and black tendrils shooting out of it, wrapping around the dead tree trunk, pulling, sucking it into the void… Zephiel and Renee gave quiet exclamations of astonishment.

“That’s good!” Ceniro cried, and she stopped and staggered back, the void vanished, and the tree trunk wobbled and fell against the wall, at enough of an angle they could climb up. An arrow bounced off Murdock’s shield as he moved with her. “Renee, get up there! George, covering fire! Rigel, Pent…”

“I’m fine,” Pent said. “I’ll give covering fire as well.”

“I need a moment,” Rigel said, panting and putting her head down. “Thanks for the assist, Lord Pent.”

The archers were already trying to shift the tree off the wall, but Renee was already at the top, forcing them back with her spear. There was a noise of people behind them, but when he turned, it was only Erk’s group… without Erk. “Where’s Erk?” They could use him.

“We ran into Kent’s group,” Caddie said. “They were in a sticky spot, so he stayed to help.”

“All right,” Ceniro said. “Were they all there?”

“All still alive and accounted for,” Caddie reported with a small smile. “That’s quite the set-up you’ve got here!”

“You’re next up the tree, then,” Ceniro said. “Hurry, hurry! Renee’s got a foothold! Yens, after him! We need to get the gate open for the knights before Milton’s forces pin us here! Now Pent, then George!” And finally himself, climbing with one hand and his sword in the other.

Renee, Caddie, and Yens were pressing on to the gatehouse, forcing the lightly-armoured archers back, preventing them from firing off too many arrows. George was struck in the side with one, but Pent was beside him while Rigel held off the archers on the other side, her void simply absorbing their arrows. They were all in, so he shoved with all his strength and rolled the tree away from the wall, preventing others from getting in that way.

The rest of Milton’s soldiers, more heavily armed and armoured knights and axemen, were rushing towards them, and wyverns were coming back from the forest. The gate slowly rumbled open and Murdock’s knights hurried in. “Knights, take that wall, defend against those soldiers! Wil, there’re more mages in this group! Renee, after you’ve secured the castle, the defense of the gate is yours. Take the other gate as quick as you can; deny the rest of his army.” He hoped Lyn and Kent’s groups showed up soon, or had the sense not to approach the castle while enemy forces were congregating so heavily on it. Kent was sensible; he’d probably act as a decoy for as many enemies as possible. Lyn… Lyn he was not so sure what she would do. “Pent, Murdock, George, Yens, with me!”

“I’m coming too!” Zephiel cried, also dismounting and drawing his sword.

Ceniro stared hard at him. Did he dare risk… Whatever. “All right, but don’t get too close to Milton.” He could help take out his inevitable guards.

He turned and dashed towards the great hall, Pent close on his heels. Did they have enough to face him? He didn’t want to take more fighters away from defense of the gate… This would have to be Murdock and Pent’s fight, with Yens, George, Zephiel, and Ceniro defending them against guards. In the space of the great hall, where Milton surely was, there wouldn’t be so many guards that they were overwhelmed, or there’d be no space left for actual fighting. He just hoped there weren’t too many mages besides Milton’s druid friend.

At his gesture, Murdock was first into the hall… and was swept aside by a wave of energy, crashing into the wall with a clatter of heavy armour and slumping to the floor. Yens was taken with him.

“Murdock!” Zephiel cried. Ceniro had just opened his mouth to react, give orders, anything, and another wave of energy blasted the rest of them, knocking all four of them off their feet.

Ceniro gritted his teeth as he picked himself up and gave a hand to Pent. Eckesachs’ power was not as lethal as Maltet’s, it seemed, but it was going to make any fight very difficult. “Murdock, shield up! Zephiel, stay back! Pent, George, support Murdock!”

“And you’re going to hang back as usual,” Milton said, standing with arms akimbo at the top of the dias, Legendary sword in one hand, and the farseer in the other. There were soldiers with lances all around him, but they made no move forward. Milton wanted to fight them himself, it seemed. And the druid was nowhere to be seen. “Letting all the real warriors take all the risks for you.” He lunged forward, dodging Pent’s Thunder and Murdock’s lance, and Zephiel cried out as Murdock was stabbed in the side and slumped to the floor.

Ceniro hissed through his teeth. Without Murdock… This was reminding him agonizingly of training battles. He didn’t think Murdock was dead, not yet, but could Pent get to him in time – no, Pent couldn’t get to him at all. Going through Milton was suicide. Yens wasn’t on his level, he couldn’t shield Pent…

All this went through his mind in half a blink. “Pent, Elfire wall. George-” The fire went up, the arrows flew, but Milton batted them away like they were nothing, the giant sword sparking and flashing with light. It looked terrifyingly powerful, and Ceniro found himself taking a step back without thinking about it. _No_ , he told himself. He couldn’t show the least sign of retreating. He could see Desmond, Hellene, Guinevere, and another woman who must be Guinevere’s mother, bound in ropes at the back of the hall, watched by other soldiers. If he left even for a moment, Milton would kill them all.

Probably. Somehow, he couldn’t actually see Milton killing Guinevere.

And now Milton was upon Pent and George, and with one swing, they were both flung into the wall. Pent had begun to dodge back before the stroke fell, but blood was already soaking into the front of his tunic from a deep slash as he hit the wall. George was a little further back, but his head struck the wall and he lay motionless.

Milton didn’t even look at Ceniro, glancing instead at the farseer. “Westvale, regroup your wyverns and send them to the castle. Renee only has one archer and a shaman. Rovenna, any sign of that Sacaean?”

Ceniro couldn’t hear the answer, and Milton’s face didn’t change… which was probably a good sign. If Lyn had been spotted, Milton would have started gloating.

His hands were shaking again. His heart was pounding, deafeningly. Had he lost?

He was still standing. He still had allies standing. But could he still accomplish his goal? And Murdock was bleeding out, and Pent was bleeding out, and Yens was in front of Zephiel, but they were no threat to Milton and they all knew it.

And he was no threat to Milton either…

“Lord Milton…” he heard, and they turned to see Pent, struggling to sit up against the stone wall, gasping against his injuries even as the guards surrounded him and the others, though for whatever reason they did not approach Ceniro. “Lord Milton, don’t do this. Don’t kill them.”

“You have failed to defeat me, so you beg for your lives?” Milton raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were made of sterner stuff, Count Reglay.”

“Don’t… care about me,” Pent said. “As long as Louise and Klein… But… whatever happens to the throne of Bern… to destroy an entire family… is cruelty beyond bounds.”

“Is the cruelty of destroying one family more heavy than the cruelty of leaving the rest of Bern to rot in the hands of corrupt nobles and murdering, raping brigands?” Milton said. “Desmond must die; there are no two ways about it. While Zephiel held promise, the fact is his father would never let him rule; so if effective rule is to come quickly, he must die as well. As for Hellene, I do not know how much loyalty she has to Bern, but I am not taking chances. But Igraine and Guinevere may live.”

“Ah,” Zephiel said, and when Ceniro looked at him, he saw, unexpectedly, relief in the prince’s face. “Thank you.”

Milton snorted. “You’re a foolish idealist, Your Highness.”

“To defeat in combat is one thing,” Pent said. “But to execute these people…”

“Enough,” Milton said sharply. “ _They_ are no innocents. The only innocent one is the six-year-old.” He glanced down at the farseer. “Harrigan, the enemy cavalry are attempting to break eastward. Send a few dozen knights north along the river to cut them off.” He looked back at Pent. “But first, to do something I’ve wanted to do for a very long time.”

He turned to Ceniro and raised Eckesachs.

Ceniro wanted to scream, could feel it rising in his throat, choked off only by the contradictory fact that he couldn’t breathe.

 _Act, and results will follow_ …

He clamped his hands around his sword and dashed forward. _This is insane. Ludicrous. Actual suicide._

Milton _laughed_. “You are no warrior. Your hands shake and there is fear in your eyes. You still think you can defeat me?”

Ceniro ducked; a blast from the blade whizzed past his head. There was only one goal in his mind, and he rushed forward with a singleminded purpose, his vision tunneling, the world flashing before him in razor-sharp detail even as it detached itself from reality.

He could do this. He had started late, he should have done this as soon as he entered, but he could-

His little steel katana swung down, Milton stepping back with a face of surprise and sudden clarity, and the farseer shattered into a thousand pieces.

_Now he can’t tell his forces how to get around my frie-_

Even as he recovered from his swing, Eckesachs swung down, cleaving through katana, cloth, flesh, and bone like it was nothing.

Pent’s weak cheer – he knew what destroying the farseer meant – turned into a gasp.

Ceniro stood stock still for an instant as his right arm fell to the floor in two pieces, eyes wide with shock, and then collapsed silently to his knees, clutching his shoulder with his left hand, staring at it and the blood pouring from the stump. It didn’t feel gone. It hurt, yes, but it mostly just felt warm-

And then the agony hit him. He fell to his face at Milton’s feet and shrieked and could do nothing else. He couldn’t even brace himself for the killing blow that was surely coming…

He heard quick footsteps and heard someone else scream – not in pain, but in shock and grief and fury.

Lyn.

He gasped out her name, fought against the pain, fighting just to open his tear-flooded eyes. She was in the doorway, a small, slim figure soaked in sweat, spattered in blood, hair plastered to her forehead, with blue eyes so wide he could see the whites all around, her mouth still open from her scream.

Then she _moved_ , and he couldn’t track her as she blurred towards him, towards Milton. He heard the familiar thwip of Louise’s bow as she entered after Lyn, drawing arrow after arrow back and letting fly at the soldiers even as they tried to rush her; there was a fwoosh as some of them erupted in flame cast by Erk behind her. He could hear Klein whimpering from his harness on Louise’s chest.

But Lyn was past him on the other side, swords blazing in her hands, forcing Milton back with short shouts of exertion. Now that the farseer was destroyed, he was using two hands, retreating in a controlled fashion, defending against Lyn who was hammering him from all sides, almost flying. Ceniro had never seen her so angry before…

He should be helping Louise and Erk before the soldiers rallied and killed them… It wasn’t possible right now. The agony was coming out in moaned breaths between clenched teeth and he was in no state to speak, let alone plan and give orders. He could see his blood pooling on the floor below his arm. There seemed to be a lot of it…

He could still see Lyn once he got his head around, could see her driving Milton back. One blow from that sword and she would die… But she was fighting like he’d never seen her fight, near-perfect, hair and skirts and robe following helplessly in her wake as she rained blows down on Milton – had she just bounced off the wall? Her regular sword was broken, but she had taken the shining, glowing Mani Katti in both hands and it went through Milton’s armour like paper when she could score a hit. But Milton was also fighting magnificently, lacking Lyn’s speed and reflexes but making up for it with a solid disciplined defense. The two whirled on each other, trading blows too fast for him to see.

He couldn’t keep his eyes open, couldn’t see Lyn anymore, but he could hear, the constant clash and clang and rasp of steel on enchanted steel, the swift steps, one set heavy, one set light, the grunts and hoarse breaths and short shouts.

There was a massive _CRACK_ and a crumbling, rumbling noise of falling masonry, Klein crying loudly, urgent shouting, and an arm under his shoulders, hauling him up and leaning on someone tall in armour, dragging him hurriedly away from the sounds of battle. He couldn’t hold back the gasp and the cry of pain that burst from him.

“Sorry,” Kent said, his voice almost lost under the commotion around them. Kent was here? Ceniro pried his eye open again, forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, to keep moving towards the doorway filled with bright light ahead of him. Other people were running towards it. There was another massive crash and Kent flinched, quickening his pace even more.

“Ly-” he began and stopped. He couldn’t distract her; a look over his shoulder showed she was still locked in combat with Milton, and the ceiling was coming down around them. _Stay alive_ , he thought hard in her direction, and then they were through the doorway and into the courtyard.

Kent brought him all the way to the other end of the courtyard, where Renee was still coordinating the defense of the gate with the rest of his group and Murdock’s knights, before he put him down and made him sit. Ceniro hardly paid attention to the gate; he was still staring at the hall of the castle as blasts of white light shot out of it, gouging huge rents in it. It was teetering… the roof was caving in…

“Lyn!” he screamed, almost staggering to his feet again as the roof came down, but Kent held him down and Erk was there, carrying… the pieces of his arm?

“Hold still!” Erk ordered him. “Don’t move, or this won’t work!”

“Lyn!” he cried again. “Lyn, don’t be-”

They were still fighting. The roof had fallen in around them and they were still fighting. He didn’t want to know by what miracle both Lyn and Milton had survived, covered in dust and not noticably slower than before.

A blue glow lit up around him, obscuring his vision but he didn’t even look down, not even when Erk and Kent started talking to him about his arm and putting it in a sling. What did it matter? An arm didn’t matter. What mattered was that he felt well enough to stand and stand he did as soon as the sling was done, breaking free from Kent’s hasty grab and running back towards the ruins of the keep.

Milton’s armour was hanging in pieces from his shoulders, but he fought grimly on. Lyn’s face was a frozen snarl. Neither of them were shouting anymore. They were both going to fight to the death, he could see it. He didn’t want that.

There was a wyvern rider swooping in, a wyvern with an extra passenger already with her. “My lord-!”

“Get out of here, Rovenna!” Milton shouted, blocking another three of Lyn’s blows. “Go on, get clear! Go north, as far as you can!”

“My lord- I hear and obey!” The rider’s voice was full of desperate regret, but her wyvern flapped and peeled away, vanishing swiftly northward.

Milton swung sideways; Lyn didn’t even try to block it, flowing around the giant blade like the wind itself. The wave of power that shot out from it slammed into the outer wall of the castle, slicing through the stones there as if they were dry clay, but that wall didn’t fall… yet. With one final, defiant scream, she sprang over the sword, coming down from above, and the Mani Katti knocked Eckesachs from Milton’s grasp.

Milton took a step back but did not scramble for the sword, which had already transformed into a form like a sceptre. Lyn took a step back, aiming her final blow-

“Wait!” Ceniro shouted, flinging himself between them, one functional arm outstretched. “Wait. Lyn. I want to talk to him.”

He couldn’t read the emotions on either of their faces, both panting, Lyn’s face contorted in battle-rage, Milton’s already turning cold and haughty.

But if he didn’t talk to him now, he’d never know why…

“You- you!” Lyn shouted, flinging her precious sword to the rubble, its glow fading. He wasn’t sure whether she was going to kill him or throw herself at him, but he was terrified either way. Neither he nor Milton dared move.

Lyn glared at him, breathing hard, before finally giving a roar of frustration, picking up her sword, and stomping away.

Then there were soldiers, proper Bern Army soldiers in wyvern gear surrounding Milton, and he was forced to his knees and bound.

King Desmond was alive; his family was unharmed by the collapse of the castle hall. Erk and Rigel had healed Pent and Murdock’s wounds, and Renee was relieved of holding the castle gate by the reinforcements, although most of them were in the field, hunting down the remaining rebels. Milton was off in a corner, under heavy guard. People were milling about, talking all at once, trying to understand the situation and get organized.

Ceniro understood the situation well enough for his own purposes. He looked around at his friends; they were all there, every single one, although most of them were pretty beat up, sporting residual cuts and bruises and missing pieces of armour or clothing. His own arm was numb and he couldn’t move it, although it did seem to be attached properly. He wondered if he’d regain the use of it or not.

There were guards trying to arrest Pent and Louise, and George, Caddie, Yens, Andy and Frank were not okay with it, forming a half-circle around the two with their hands on their weapons. If he didn’t stop them, they’d have another battle in the courtyard. “Hold on!” he cried, hurrying towards them. “Wait, stop, they’re with me.”

“These two are known assassins and sworn enemies of Bern-!”

“I know, I know, I know,” Ceniro interrupted impatiently. “But they risked their lives to help save your monarchy just now. They’re not going to try anything. Just give me a minute with some of my people and I’ll go resolve this whole thing. In the meantime, leave them alone.”

The Bern captain drew himself up. “You cannot give me orders, mercenary-!”

“That’s an order from me, then,” Murdock said, appearing behind the captain. “Desist from harrassing these allies.”

Ceniro nodded gratefully to him. “Thank you. I’ll go talk to King Desmond about it now… if he’s not too busy.”

“I will take you to him,” Murdock said solemnly.

King Desmond was blustering more than Ceniro remembered, but he guessed that the king was probably nervous and shaken by his recent experience as a victim of an almost-successful coup. “And who by Elimine’s name are you, consorting with our enemies?”

Ceniro scraped his meagre court training together and bowed. “I am Ceniro of Santaruz, a tactician and the captain of these mercenaries. Pent and Louise are acting solely as mercenaries under my command. Prince Zephiel and General Murdock enlisted my aid to save you and defeat Milton.”

“Ah.” Desmond hesitated, frowning, unsure whether to be furious or grateful.

“My knights and I would never have been able to deliver you from Milton of Tulgren by ourselves,” Murdock said. “All our success is due to Captain Ceniro and Lady Lyn over yonder.” Ceniro immediately found that he hated the title of ‘captain’.

Desmond’s mouth curved down disapprovingly, and Ceniro wondered if he’d have to stave off incoming racism.

But then the king forced a smile onto his face. “You have our gratitude, Ceniro of Santaruz. We believe General Murdock’s words; you risked much against great odds for us, and we will reward you greatly. But still, Reglay…”

“Your Majesty,” Ceniro said, interrupting hastily – and rudely, he knew, “I could ask for no better reward than that you release my friends from their exile. I wish for nothing for myself.”

Desmond’s mouth worked a bit. “You would ask us to forgive the ones who commited such a heinous crime against us? Proven to have hired the most cold-blooded of assassins to murder our son?”

Pent spread his hands. “Whether or not that is what actually happened, does it truly matter? All that Louise and I wish is to see our homeland once more. Let us leave the past behind us and move on to a better future.”

The king stared at him and Ceniro spoke up again, putting on his best naive face. “Your Majesty, they did almost die for your sake. Pent pleaded for your life. Even were you not deceived by the evidence you found, surely that is proof that they would never do such a thing now?”

Pent glanced at him, and Ceniro could read subtle approval on his face.

Desmond pouted ferociously, but although Ceniro sensed a storm on the horizon, the king actually backed down. “Fine. Reglay, we acquit you of all past crimes in gratitude for our life. Happy?”

“My wife and I thank you with all our hearts,” Pent said, and Louise curtseyed.

“Could he have that in writing, please, Your Majesty,” Ceniro pressed him. “Signed and sealed, so that King Mordred may have no doubt of your sanction.”

There was some stifled growling, but a table and chair and parchment and pen and ink were all found, and Desmond sat to write a letter to Pent while Ceniro hovered over his shoulder. He didn’t care if Desmond took a dislike to him. All that mattered was that Pent get out of here as soon as possible.

The letter was finished, sealed in wax with the king’s signet ring, enveloped and sealed again, and handed to Pent. Desmond stood again. “Now to more important matters. Ceniro of Santaruz, you are clearly a force to be reckoned with when you command any number of men. We would ask you to join the Bern Army and make her once again the greatest in Elibe.”

“The Bern Army would be unstoppable with Ceniro in charge,” Pent said, smiling. “Therefore, to maintain balance in the world, I must offer a counter-offer on behalf of my king – join Etruria’s army, half the Generals already hold you in high esteem.”

“I will not withdraw my letter, Reglay, but do not drive me to war-!”

“If we go to war over Ceniro, he’ll just go to Sacae or Ilia and ignore both of us, and rightly so,” Pent said. “But I know you are truly serious about recruiting him, so know that Etruria is also truly serious about preventing that.” The two men glared at each other, Pent with a thin smirk, the tension between them quickly rising like snapping wires.

Ceniro huffed. “All right, both of you. I’m a mercenary captain – that means I’m an independent contractor. If I don’t want to work for anyone, I don’t have to – not even by royal decree, since I’m not a Bern citizen. Or an Etrurian citizen. I’m happy where I am, and I don’t want anything larger.” He looked at Desmond. “However, my group would be happy to work for you on a job-by-job basis.”

Desmond’s face was pinched from disappointment, and Ceniro actually felt kind of bad, but he really didn’t want to work for him. And he definitely didn’t want war to break out, especially over him. What a ridiculous idea. “How dare… If that is the best you can do…”

“I thank you for your understanding, Your Majesty,” Ceniro said, bowing again. “There is also the matter of Eckesachs. Pent and I are on a mission to seal away the Legendary Weapons before they can be misused.” He gestured at the ruins of the castle behind him. “Might we have your permission to do the same for Eckesachs?”

“Our royal sceptre,” Desmond began angrily, and then paused, thinking. “It would not be well for the royal sceptre to be the tool of usurpers. Yes, that we will agree to gladly.”

“Perhaps a vault beneath this castle will be suitable?” Pent suggested. “I will get started immediately.”

“We will observe,” Desmond said regally, and gestured for the weapon to be brought over.

Pent and Desmond were gone a while, and Ceniro went to see how his people were doing.

Lyn wasn’t looking at him as he walked over to her. “I’m glad you came,” he said softly. “You and Louise. I was a bit worried that you wouldn’t make it.”

“You idiot!” she cried, turning to him with fire in her beautiful blue eyes. “Even if your entire plan always hinges on me and Pent and Florina, that doesn’t mean you can just go and die because you think you’re expendable or something!”

He looked down. “I had to destroy the farseer. Cut him off from his allies, get them off your backs.”

“And then after I did all that fighting for you, I got my sword cut in half, kept fighting, avoided getting sliced in half by Legendary power or crushed by an entire freakin’ falling castle, defeat your stupid arch-nemesis, and then you just jump in and stop the fight because you want to talk to the bastard!”

Lyn had never used so many expressive words in one breath before, and he winced. “I know. You were all keyed up and then I interrupted it. But… it…”

She sighed and lifted her head to look him in the eyes, still glaring tiredly, but with less heat now. “It’s important to you. You have history with him. It’s not like… me and Lundgren. Or… or Nino and Sonia. I get it. It’s just frustrating.”

“I… yeah. But thank you. I really… thank you.”

“So go talk to him!” she snapped, the ghost of a smirk crossing her face. “The things I do for you, and then you don’t even follow through!”

He snorted a laugh. “Right. I’ll do that, after I make sure everyone else is okay. Thanks.”

He went next to Prince Zephiel, who stared at him in awe when he saw him coming. “You’re unharmed, I hope?”

“Completely fine,” Zephiel said, and swallowed. “That was… How did we all survive that?”

“I don’t know if I can answer that,” Ceniro said. “Equal amounts luck and skill.”

“You and Lady Lyn can truly accomplish the impossible,” Zephiel said, looking again at the ruined castle. “Together, I do not believe there is a foe in this world who can stand against you.”

“She’s the strongest person I know,” Ceniro said, looking over at her where she was now talking with Louise, who had soothed Klein to watchful quiet at last. “But even she couldn’t do it alone. We need our friends. And our allies, like you.”

Zephiel smiled and, to his surprise, blushed. “I have a long way to go before I can be anywhere near as strong as either of you.”

“Well…” Ceniro looked up at those youthful brown eyes. Wondered whether Zephiel had stopped growing yet. “You’re already very strong, both in mind and body. Hold on to that strength, and your compassionate heart. And… if you ever need me or my people for anything, send us word! We won’t fight wars for you, as you probably noticed me saying to your father, but smaller jobs, we don’t mind. Even if you just need someone to talk to.” He didn’t want to say too much about how much he knew about Zephiel’s family life… and it was probably worse than he had seen. But any encouragement he could give…

“To talk to…” Zephiel looked confused. “I don’t know how well Bern would look upon her Crown Prince fraternizing with mercenaries.”

“Ah, right,” Ceniro said agreeably. “I understand. We do look a bit disreputable. Maybe if we got a uniform for official purposes… But I don’t like uniforms…” He wanted to suggest hanging out with Eliwood or Hector, to have _some_ friends on his own level who weren’t Murdock, but didn’t want to be seen as nosy either. But the prince must be so lonely…

Zephiel couldn’t help laughing. “But I thank you for your concern. I do hope to see you again someday.”

“Me, too,” Ceniro said. “In any case, good luck, and we’ll be thinking of you.”

Zephiel bowed and Ceniro returned it. “Thank you, Sir Ceniro. Good fortunes always be with you on your journeys. And… thank you for letting me fight.” He looked down and behind Ceniro, and bowed again. “Hello, Guinevere!”

Ceniro turned and saw the little girl whom he’d often wondered about, a soldier hovering behind her. She gave Zephiel a joyful smile and a wave, but turned to him first.

“You are the captain of the friendly people?” she said. “My mama says you saved us. I wanted to thank you, as a princess should.” She held out her hand and Ceniro knelt before her, holding out his own hand to receive whatever it was she was giving him.

It was a hairclip, made of gold with a cluster of sapphires in the shape of flowers on one side. “Thank you, Your Highness,” he said solemnly. “I will treasure it always.”

“That is good,” she said regally, and then threw herself at her brother. “Brother! You came to save me!”

Zephiel picked Guinevere up and she put her arms about his neck. “Of course I did. I’d do anything for you!”

“Teehee! You’re such a kind brother!” She whispered: “I wish I got to see you more but I don’t want to make Daddy sad. But someday it won’t make him sad and we can visit _all the time!_ ”

“Yes, that is true,” Zephiel said, smiling, though with a slight hesitation. “But in the meantime, I’m glad you’re being a good girl.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek and put her down again. “Say hello to your mama for me, all right?”

“Yes, Brother!” She sparkled and ran off, her bodyguard trailing after her.

Then everyone else came up at once and surrounded him. “We survived,” Fiora said, still sounding stunned, holding tightly to Kent’s hand.

“We did,” he said.

“Although… I’m sorry about your poor arm…” she said.

He tried to shrug and found it felt exceptionally odd, having all that dead weight on one side. “It was worth it to stop Milton. He couldn’t co-ordinate his forces against you.”

“So the farseer…” said Kent.

“Is destroyed, and buried under that wreckage,” Ceniro said. “It’s fine. It’s too powerful. This situation can’t happen again.”

“Speaking of which…” Erk started poking the sling again. “I really hope I did this right… You really can’t feel anything in it right now?”

“Erk!” Ceniro cried. “I owe you my life _and_ my arm. Whether I can feel with it right now doesn’t matter. Thank you.” He bowed very low to the mage, who turned red.

“It’s… Thank me when you recover full use of it,” Erk said doubtfully. “I’m not a cleric or a troubadour. But I guess putting up with Serra was good for something after all.”

Ceniro laughed. “I’m very happy that you came in time. I know it’s not really your expertise, but even if I don’t recover use of my arm, at least I have it.” He turned around. “Where’s Wil?”

“Right here,” Wil called from near the wall, where Rigel and Florina were fussing over him and Renee was fussing over Rigel. “I’m feeling much better, too. I’ll be on my feet in a minute.”

“Good,” Ceniro said. “That scream was the most horrifying thing I’ve heard in my life. I swear my heart stopped for seconds together.”

Wil grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m not the number-one dodger in the group, and I thought I could take down one more wyvern.”

“Target fixation,” Rigel said in her ‘creepy’ voice. “The death of many an unwary soldier.”

“Uh-huh,” Wil said doubtfully, side-eyeing her even as Rigel finished with her ministrations and Florina helped him up, hugging him tightly when he made it to standing. He hugged her back with closed eyes and an achingly relieved face.

Renee giggled. “And I’m never going to forget my lovely’s awe-inspiring display of power. Well done!”

“Um, thanks,” Rigel said awkwardly. Renee huffed fondly, took both Rigel’s hands in hers, and kissed her. Rigel squeaked and turned bright red. “E-everyone’s watching!”

“So?” Renee said.

George chuckled. “Best wishes to both of you, then.”

“And you must be more than ready to go home,” Ceniro said. “Your wives have probably forgotten what you look like!”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Frank said, with a pained look.

“Or my kids!” Yens cried. “Julian, Maya, little Helen… They probably call the dog ‘daddy’ by this point!”

Caddie chuckled. “It’s hard to believe that this journey is almost over. It’s been what, almost two years?”

“Not quite two years,” Louise said. “Klein is only thirteen months old, remember?” Klein yawned and shifted sleepily in his harness, and she kissed the top of his blond head.

“Just call it a year,” Andy muttered to himself.

Ceniro smiled. “We’ll miss all of you. But we’ll visit once in a while. Who knows, maybe Pent will need help finding some new interesting piece of junk to look at.”

“It’s not junk,” Erk said reflexively, and the others laughed.

“Visit soon! Visit often! And let me know how your sister’s doing!” Andy cried, giving him a fist-bump.

Ceniro shook his head. “Ask her yourself. You write her more than I do.” And Andy blushed.

“Ah, let’s tease the youngsters, eh, Caddie?” George said, grinning.

“Right you are, George,” Caddie replied, also grinning.

But then Pent and Desmond were back, and Pent bowed to the king before walking quickly over to the group. “Ah, you’re all here. Excellent.”

“And you’re done?” Ceniro asked.

“All done. Every weapon has been safely sealed. With luck, the investigations of the shaman of Elibe will come to nothing, and we won’t have any more wars on our hands for a while. At least not ones that threaten the whole continent.”

“Yes,” Ceniro said. “Pent… I’m sorry about the farseer. I don’t feel I had a choice, but I know how much work you put into it…”

Pent shook his head. “You were right to destroy it. I think you’re right about it being too dangerous. …Next time I just have to make it so that only you can use it!”

Ceniro laughed and looked down. “You probably shouldn’t make any more. Other people will catch on anyway, even if yours is the best. Imagine Nergal with a farseer.”

Pent shuddered. “As you like.”

“Also, you should leave as soon as possible,” Ceniro said firmly. “Without us, even.”

“As soon as possible?” George said, and took Andy and Frank aside to check their saddlebags.

“I would have thought you would escort us home,” Pent said quietly to Ceniro, as they walked towards the gate.

“You can make it on your own from here, right?” Ceniro said. “There’s something else I want to do and I don’t want you involved.”

Pent quirked a silver eyebrow. “I’ll want to hear all about it later.”

“Much later,” Ceniro said. “In a few months.” He stopped and looked up at the taller man. “But I’m very happy for you. You can go home, at long last, and live in peace and quiet for once.”

“Yes, peace and quiet and a long stretch in a proper bed might be nice,” Pent said, smiling. “But never think that I haven’t – we all haven’t – enjoyed our time traveling with you. It wasn’t easy, but it was satisfying, and I, at least, had Louise by my side always. But I know my loyal guards will be dying to see their families.”

“Yes, they are, and I do feel bad that they’ve had to stay away so long.”

“They could have gone home at any time, and they knew it,” Pent reminded him, “but they chose to stay and help, because this journey has meant something to them, too. Besides, that’s what letters are for!”

“Right, letters. I should send some, too.” Ceniro paused, already thinking of something else. “I was wondering, did E- did our friends ever do anything like that while they were fighting the fire dragon? I wasn’t there personally, but I didn’t see that level of destructive power…”

“I don’t think they wanted to unleash that level of destruction on the Dragon’s Gate,” Pent said. “To destroy the entire structure with all their friends and allies inside, that would be too terrible for them to think about. So the weapons obeyed their unconscious wishes and restrained their power. But, I think, in their last blows against the beast, yes, I saw something like that. Especially our friend with the sword, when he leapt on the dragon to deliver the killing blow…”

“Wish I could have seen it,” Ceniro said. “Ah well, our task is finally done. What will you be doing now?”

“Probably continuing Athos’s research,” Pent said. “If King Mordred reinstates me as Mage General, I’m going to refuse and resign. Hike out to Nabata and carry as much as I can home… You up for a journey sometime next year?”

“Next year? Sounds good.”

“And of course taking care of Louise and Klein. I won’t be shoving magic down his throat, but if he does show any interest in it… But he’ll at least need a good, well-rounded education when he gets older. I need to commission someone to paint him while he’s still tiny and chubby… And Louise needs a good bout of pampering, she’s worked so hard to keep both me and him safe.”

“That she has,” Ceniro said, smiling. “But you’ve worked hard to keep her safe, too. All of us safe. So, next year? I’m sure we’ll be around somewhere.”

“Right,” Pent said, looking around. “Captain George!”

“Sir!”

“We all ready to go? Has everyone said their goodbyes? Oh, I’ll just be a minute, I’d like to say something at least to Lyn and Fiora and Rigel.”

“We’re ready, sir,” George said, chuckling. “Take care, Ceniro. We’ll miss you!”

“Thanks, and I you.”

Pent wasn’t long in bidding farewell to his former companions, and took Louise’s hand in the gate. “Well, we’re off. Stay well, all of you. Let’s go, Louise! Home awaits!”

“I’ll follow wherever you lead, Lord Pent!”

That left only one more issue, one that he’d have to deal with carefully. He watched Pent and Louise’s group leave for as long as he dared, checked the setting sun, checked the wyverns in the field. He had time. And if he could make more time…

He walked towards Milton, and as he approached, the guards gave him some space. Milton gave no sign of acknowledgement as Ceniro came to a stop in front of where he sat on a small pile of rubble. He felt a little odd to be looking down on Milton instead of craning his neck like he usually did.

Best to just be direct, especially if he was pretending to ignore him. “So… why did you hate me so much?” Ceniro asked. “Why was it so important that you give everything you had to defeat me?”

Milton raised a grim face from staring at his bound hands. “Is it not obvious?”

Ceniro shrugged. “Besides the whole class thing, no. It wasn’t just because I’m the son of a carpenter, is it?”

Milton returned his gaze to the paving stones. “Of course it is.” Ceniro waited. “All my life, my brothers and I have been expected to excel. My elder brother is destined to inherit my father’s estate. My younger brother is already a bishop in the Church of Saint Elimine. And I… My province was the art of making war, and I studied under the finest teachers Elibe had to offer… and this low-born buffoon from Santaruz shows up and outstrips me in technical skill without even trying.” He paused, then ground out with a snarl, “I would have been the first Dragon General, before even General Murdock, before General Vaida, before she fell from grace, if not for you placing me at second-best!”

“Ah,” Ceniro said. “So even though no one in Bern would know anything about me, I made it impossible for you to attain your goals. So that’s why you stayed an extra year when I started getting good.” He nodded slowly. “…So then you turned to a coup, instead, but you couldn’t let go of your focus on me once you knew I was in the area.”

“And there you go with the slow-witted act again,” Milton muttered to himself, but the fire seemed gone out of him now.

“Why didn’t you attack me the day before, when you stole my farseer?”

“I would have taken far too many losses fighting you in the open. Even if I defeated you, I still needed my army to defend against the Bern army afterwards. As it was, I believe I took far fewer losses, although partly that was because you never managed to get stuck in my troops.”

“They weren’t in the wrong place, I think,” Ceniro said. “But my people are the best of the best.”

“Do not mock me,” Milton said coldly.

“Sorry,” Ceniro said. “I wasn’t, honest.” He was just doing his normal post-battle analysis. “Okay, so where were Rovenna and Vellith? They could have turned the tide for you. They’re no ordinary fighters, especially Rovenna. Did you train her?”

“A little. They were searching for your Sacaean woman. It would have been far different if they’d found her, even if they weren’t able to defeat her.”

“Perhaps,” Ceniro said, smiling. “Even if I was dead, my plan would still be in motion. But good call. She’s my most dangerous unit.”

“I said do not mock me!”

Ceniro was quiet. He really wasn’t mocking Milton. He was trying to show that he’d matured since his awkward, angsty teenage years.

Abruptly, Milton turned to him. “All right, then, question for you, since you’re in a civil mood. How do you do what you do? What makes you so good?”

Ceniro looked out over the valley they had come from, the light tinged with rosy flame from the setting sun. “Well… The more I learn, the less I’m certain of the answer to that. I thought it would be the other way around, but…” He shrugged and smiled and looked at Milton again. “I know my people. I know landscape intimately. I can sense where my opponent is weak, and what pressure I need to apply until their formation breaks.”

“I know that as well. But you-”

“Or maybe I’m just lucky,” Ceniro said, tilting his head back and glancing at the sky as it was turning violet. “I’m lucky in many other ways. I have a good life. I have good friends around me. I’m in love with an amazing woman who loves me back. I get to go wherever I want, see whatever I want, and maybe I have to put up with a little hardship on the way, but I’m enjoying my life, truly. I think people make things too complicated, worrying about power. In a hundred years, who’s going to care what I did with my time anyway?” He glanced at Milton. “My life’s more satisfying. You should try it. Why don’t you come with me?”

Milton snorted, glancing around at the dozen guards on him alone. “If I weren’t going to be executed the instant Desmond has a free moment, that offer would… no, it still wouldn’t make sense. You’ve hated me as I hated you.”

“Not anymore,” Ceniro said. “I’ve grown up since then. Like you said I should, but not because you said I should – because I couldn’t do anything else and have a good life. I’ll never like you, and if I never saw you again I would be fine with that, but no, I don’t hate you.”

Milton glared at him, but there was a deep pain behind the anger in that gaze. “I tried to kill you.”

“Multiple times, including today,” Ceniro said cheerfully. “And it’s much more interesting to ignore that and watch you realize that I’m your equal in every way besides parentage, than sit like a lump and be mad at you. That’s a waste of energy.”

“You can ignore that someone tried to kill you?”

Ceniro paused. “Well, no. No, I can’t. And I still don’t understand why you wanted to. But I know you pretty well, all things considered, and I think it would be a waste of someone of your skill to kill you or let you rot in a dungeon.”

“I don’t think Desmond will agree with you.”

“That’s not your concern,” Ceniro said, turning away. “Excuse me.”

He went first to his group, speaking quietly to them and organizing them near the gate, ready to go, and then went over to find Desmond again. “Your Majesty, I have another thing to ask of you, if you would listen.”

“What is it, Ceniro of Santaruz?” Desmond said, haughty, cautious, but not outright hostile. Yet.

“Give me Milton of Tulgren.”

“Absolutely not!” Desmond burst out, enraged. “You go too far, sir!”

“You will never see him again,” Ceniro said. “It would only be a waste to kill someone who very nearly defeated me. We’ll keep an eye on him, I promise you.”

“No! You may not have this traitor, this rebel, this scum! He will be tortured, hanged, drawn, and quartered at dawn! Milton of Tulgren is my prisoner, and you have already had your boon regarding Reglay!”

Even Hellene was looking oddly at Ceniro. He shrugged. It had been worth a short.

He turned and walked towards the gate, then stopped when he was almost there and turned back and raised his voice. “Your Majesty… I was only asking to be polite. There is really nothing you can do to stop me.” And that was what made him giddy, delirious even, what threatened to send him into hysterical, convulsive giggles, what was already stretching his face in a cocky grin. “My people are tired, yes, but your forces are all out in the field. And so I apologize, but you’ll have to do without your revenge for today.” He whistled, and things _moved_.

“Murdock!” Desmond roared, but Murdock was slow to move, stunned by shock and perhaps unwilling to fight the people he had been allies with so recently.

Down swooped Fiora, yanked Milton onto her pegasus, and she was away over the walls.

Ceniro couldn’t help calling a cocky “Bye!” as he ran out the gate after his friends.


	14. Episode 13: Archrivals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple more soundtracks… we have [Life Goes On](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8aP2hqS1AcI) for the conversation in Sacae and your end credits song is [Dark Pit’s Theme](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tXBSkgTIlgY)! (and possibly [The Mysterious Murasame Castle Medley](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vo3jXx43T60) for the wedding shenanigans)

Episode 13: Tomorrows

Pent and Louise had gone north, so they went west, as fast as they could. Ceniro wanted to make as much time as he possibly could before the Bern Army could regroup and come after them – because that was undoubtedly their next course of action, once they had dealt with Milton’s allies. Ceniro wanted to get as close to Lycia as possible before that happened. Then they’d head north through Lycia, into Etruria, and from there back to Sacae. It would take a couple months, but it would be the best course.

Of course, first he had to deal with the fact that everyone, especially him, was completely, bone-crushingly exhausted. They stopped after an hour or two, when it was too dark for anyone but Lyn to comfortably travel, and made camp a little ways off the road.

As soon as he sat down, he began shaking again, the hysterical laughter that he’d held in for a good portion of the day bubbling out uncontrollably. “Are you okay?” Lyn asked worriedly, kneeling beside him as he gasped and giggled and rocked back and forth.

He shook his head, the giggles threatening to turn into sobs. “I… I did it. I did everything… I set out to do… today. And… I’m tired.” Her arms went around him, drawing him against her side, and he clung to her with his good arm as he began to cry. Renee and Rigel were still watching Milton, and Kent, Fiora, and Florina were tending to their mounts, but Wil dropped what he was doing with the bedrolls – no tents tonight, it would only make packing up harder in the morning, and it wasn’t going to rain – and came over to rest a supportive hand on his shoulder.

“It’s all right,” Lyn whispered to him. “You can rest now.” She must have been at least as tired as him, and yet she was the strong one, comforting him, her small hands stroking his hair. Just like on the Dread Isle.

“Yeah, don’t worry about a thing,” Wil said. “We’ll watch your arch-rival for you, and there’s nothing else to take care of tonight.”

“Arch-rival?” Milton queried softly to himself.

Ceniro finally began to regain control of himself and turned to glance at him. “You must be wondering how I ever defeated you.”

“Yes,” Milton said, “but even more, I’m wondering why you risked everything you gained – lost almost everything you gained, except Reglay’s pardon – to save me from a just fate.”

“A just fate!?” Ceniro cried, pushing himself to his feet, away from Lyn, and stumbling in Milton’s direction. “You heard what Desmond was going to do to you! I know how much you value your dignity. Could you have faced that with dignity? Justice aside, is that what you want!?” He reached out and grabbed the front of Milton’s shirt, breathing hard, a stray hysterical tear still rolling down his cheek. Although Milton was no longer bound, he made no move to stop Ceniro, only continued staring at him. “Why would you choose a worthless death over a life to redeem yourself, or whatever you want to do with it?”

“Why do you care?” Milton demanded. “Is our antagonistic past so dear to you?”

“No… but…” Ceniro let go of Milton’s shirt and slumped to the ground. “I hate killing prisoners. I hate executions. I realize that sometimes it’s necessary, but if I can prevent it… I want to. I hate killing in general.”

Milton stared. “ _You_ are a _tactician_.”

“I know. And _I_ killed today. My people all have killed many, many times, at my command. But I… would wish for it to be in combat, even though I’m always going to save my people. It seems… more fair that way.” He rubbed his eyes and sat up a little more. “I realize this isn’t coming out making a lot of sense. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long, long time. And yes, I’ve risked a lot to save a man who hates me and who I don’t care much for either… but if I just let Desmond kill you, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

“You are too weak for this lifestyle,” Milton said.

“No,” Lyn said. “He is stronger than most other people who live this lifestyle.” She looked at Milton. “Larks and eagles both fly high, but the lark is lighter and softer. Yet it belongs in the sky just as much as the eagle.”

Milton withdrew his gaze. “Whatever you say. I would say you should stop coddling him.”

“I would say you should shut your face,” Renee muttered.

“We should rest,” Kent said softly, having finished with his horse. “Even if the Bern Army is afraid of what we did today, they’ll still be sent after us.”

“They’ll be after us, no question,” Ceniro said. “We’ll never be able to show our faces in Bern again, certainly not Milton, but not the rest of us either. But we can live with that, right?”

“Certainly we can,” Fiora said. “We have plenty of work elsewhere on the continent.”

“Then let’s rest, and worry about everything else tomorrow,” Kent said firmly. “I’ll take first watch.”

“I’ll take second,” Fiora said. “Wil, can you take third?”

“Right,” Wil said, sliding into his bedroll and yawning.

Ceniro got into the bedroll beside Lyn’s and lay still.

But his emotions weren’t done with him yet. He’d _killed_. He knew that all his friends had killed dozens of people, many of them at his command, as he had said. The blood of hundreds was on his head, even if he’d saved his own people without fail. But he himself had never killed before and the three memories from that afternoon were etched into his brain and playing themselves over and over. Even if his arm was numb forever, he was never going to forget how it felt. Was it like this for all his friends? Did Lyn ever agonize over it? Did Florina? Did Eliwood?

Ah, he just needed time, he told himself. …But in the meantime, he couldn’t sleep and he could feel another attack of tears coming on. Everyone else was sleeping peacefully, as far as he could tell. Even concentrating on Lyn’s gentle breathing wasn’t helping.

After a while he dragged himself back out of bed and over to where Kent stood watch. Even the dutiful knight was having trouble keeping his eyes open, leaning on his lance. “Mmf. C’niro?” His voice was a sleepy mumble.

So was Ceniro’s. “Can’t sleep. Issues. Just gonna sit here for a bit.” He was vaguely reminded of a night three years ago when Kent was on watch and Ceniro had questions, but he didn’t ask questions tonight. Even Kent’s patience would be thin tonight.

“Mmkay.”

He pretended to be asleep when Fiora came on watch, but it was at least another hour before exhaustion finally overcame him.

They woke far too early for his body’s liking, but the sky was growing light and they wanted to stay ahead of the Bern Army. He stumbled along beside Lyn, head down, until finally Kent shoved him on his horse like a sack of potatoes.

He slept better that night.

They were making good time through Bern, as far as he could tell; they stopped a couple times to buy food from villages, warning them afterwards about the Bern Army. Once or twice they had seen wyverns behind them, but the wyverns apparently didn’t want to outstrip their footsoldiers so they were not in immediate danger. Ceniro still held out hope of making it to Pherae before they were caught.

His arm was beginning to recover, slowly, feeling working its way back down like half-frozen water trickling through narrow crevices in rock. Sometimes when they stopped to eat or sleep he poked it, testing it, trying to wiggle his fingers… and looking at the strange new scars he had that wrapped around the entire arm. Sometimes he got a really intense feeling of pins and needles, and when that happened he gritted his teeth, grabbed the upper part of it, and hoped it would stop soon. Rigel’s staff could only help so much, and after the second time it happened, he told her to save it for an actual injury. Just because he hoped they wouldn’t fight again didn’t mean they wouldn’t fight again.

They were still four days away from Pherae when a lone wyvern rider swooped down from the sky in front of them; at Ceniro’s order, Fiora and Florina let him pass. He didn’t look like he was going to attack. Milton actually looked hopeful for a moment, but when he saw it was not Rovenna, his face settled back into impassivity.

“What is it?” Ceniro asked shortly.

The wyvern rider had been unrolling a formal scroll, but at Ceniro’s question, shrugged and rolled it up again. “His Majesty King Desmond of Bern has decided not to pursue you for now, from his generosity and his gratitude, despite your crime of freeing the rebel traitor Milton, but you are no longer welcome within the kingdom of Bern. If you ever appear here again, you will be slain on the spot.”

Ceniro nodded. “I expected as much. Good to know. Good bye.”

“Uh… Good bye.” The wyvern rider looked confused, but took off again in a cloud of dust.

“Well, now we don’t have to push quite as hard, right?” Renee said.

“I suppose, but I’d still like to get to Pherae as quickly as possible. We can rest properly there,” Ceniro said, and they continued on.

After they crossed the border into Pherae, it wasn’t long before they saw the little white castle on its green hill. There were two knights he didn’t know on duty at the gate, but he only mentioned his name and one of them saluted and ran off. Ceniro blinked tiredly at them, but in a few minutes, Eliwood and Ninian appeared. “Ceniro, Lyn, my friends, welcome! I hear things went well with Lord Pent and Lady Louise. Congratulations!” He looked more closely at them. “And with the other thing as well, I hope?”

“Yes,” Ceniro said, managing a smile. “Eliwood, is it all right if we stay here and rest a few days? We haven’t slept properly in a week and a half.”

“Yes, yes, of course, stay as long as you want!” Eliwood said. “And you look like it.” He gestured to Ceniro’s arm, still sleeveless, still in the sling – although it was still getting better. The pins and needles were happening less often and he could wiggle all his fingers now. “Just a few minutes and everything will be made ready. But we’ll want to hear the whole story tomorrow, all right?”

“Of course we’ll tell you everything,” Lyn said, smiling. “Thank you so much.”

“Think nothing of it,” Ninian said softly. “If we visited you in Sacae, you would do as much for us. We’re friends!”

“Just a word,” Ceniro said in an aside to Eliwood. “That one man you don’t know is Milton. I’ll tell you why he’s with us tomorrow, but for now… can you have someone watch him? I don’t mean he needs a guard, but just… keep an eye on him. I don’t trust him yet.”

“Certainly,” Eliwood said. “Will Isadora do?” Ceniro nodded.

A real bed. An actual, real bed with a mattress and pillows – multiple pillows – and light sheets and thick, soft blankets. Ceniro threw himself backwards on his and sighed every drop of air from his body contentedly.

Then Lyn slipped through the door, closing it behind her, and came to tackle him. For a long minute they just held each other, relaxing in the knowledge that they were safe and they could rest.

“We should get married,” Ceniro said sleepily. “Then you can be in here without worrying what people think.”

“I already don’t worry about what people think,” she answered, just as sleepily. “But sure, let’s get married. Tomorrow?”

He chuckled. “I don’t think my mother will forgive me if she isn’t present. And what about your grandfather? He missed his daughter’s wedding, I don’t think he’ll want to miss his granddaughter’s. He doesn’t disapprove of me, right?”

“Florina and Fiora and Kent and Wil didn’t worry about that last year,” she retorted, but she looked like she was thinking. “Well… maybe my grandfather should come. I’m sure he approves of you. I love you, after all, so he should too. And Eliwood’s right here, we can invite him and Ninian and a few other people.”

“Like who?” he asked warily. “Hector and Pent and Louise? I think we’re getting too many people involved. We just wanted something quiet, remember? After what Hector and Louise did with the wedding last year… We’ll just convince my mother to leave Santaruz temporarily, bring your grandfather, and go to Sacae where no one will bother us.”

“You’re right,” she said, smiling. “I’ve always wanted to show my grandfather the plains.”

“I know you have,” he said. “Show him the land you love so much.”

“What about you?”

“I love it, but I love all of Elibe, you know that.”

“Mm.” She was quiet for a moment. “Well, we can pass through Dunborough on our way back to Sacae. You can convince her then. I hope it doesn’t take too much doing.”

“Anlie will help. She’s good at it. So I guess we’ll set a date for a few months from now. Just whenever we get back.”

“Sounds good,” Lyn said, yawning, and she snuggled into his side and fell asleep. He followed shortly after.

They arrived in Sacae a couple months later. Lord Hausen journeyed with them, meeting them in Caelin with a few guards and servants, and he gazed at the plains curiously. “So this is what Madelyn saw. It’s very… open. Very wild. …Very free. I can see why it appealed to her… Between the restrictions of her status and her proposed marriage to Araphen, this must have been very tempting.” He turned to Ceniro. “You will take care of my granddaughter, yes?”

Ceniro wanted to say that she was better at taking care of him, but there were formalities to be observed. “I will do so to the best of my ability, sir.”

“Well, then. That’s good. You’re a good young man. Your eyes say so.”

“Ah… thank you, sir.”

His own family had been with them since Santaruz, of course, and had taken some adjusting to keep up with the rest of them. His mother was a little bit petrified at being so far from home, so far from ‘civilization’, but she grew calmer when he showed her how sophisticated life in a ger really was, and by good fortune they hadn’t been attacked by bandits on the way. His sister was wide-eyed and smiling at everything, and she kept looking at the horizon. “It’s so big!” she said when he asked her about it, but somehow he didn’t believe that was the whole story. Drew was a bit nervous, but his father seemed to be taking it all in stride.

And of course Milton was still reluctantly in tow. The former knight had said little, even to Renee, during all their journey. Ceniro hadn’t thought much of it at first; he’d been tired, and then he had though Milton was just being himself, but Renee seemed concerned after a while, and that brought it to his attention. But what could he do about it? He knew how Milton fought, how he thought… that didn’t mean he knew him as a person. And he was _quite_ sure Milton didn’t want him interfering.

But the more he thought about it, the clearer it seemed: something in Milton’s spirit had been broken by his final defeat at Armica, something that had always been made angry and competitive every time Ceniro had previously defeated him in training.

One of the things that Ceniro had always noticed about Milton was that he always managed to maintain control over himself and his tactics even when he was angry. When Renee was angry, her tactics fell apart, like most people. When Ceniro was angry, he’d start doing crazy things – which usually worked. Angry Milton’s tactics were generally the same as not-angry Milton’s tactics, which made him pretty much impossible to emotionally compromise. Which was part of what made him so dangerous.

But that anger didn’t seem to be there anymore, just a strange blankness that had even him worried. He’d saved Milton so he could redeem himself, not so he could go die again.

He told him so.

Milton glared up at him. “You think I am upset? About Armica?”

“I can’t think what else it could be,” Ceniro said defensively. “All right, why are you being… annoyingly inscrutable?”

“Since when do I display emotion to peasants?” Milton shot back. Maybe he wasn’t doing so bad. Maybe Ceniro should just leave him to sort his issues out on his own, instead of getting involved where he was clearly not wanted. He shrugged and turned.

“I am your prisoner, am I not?” Milton said quietly as Ceniro began to walk away.

He stopped and turned back. “That wasn’t really my intention.”

“Whether or not it is your intention, it is the reality. You defeated me. You took me with you. You place a guard on me, even if it is a loose one and you do not restrict my movement. I have no weapon. You said something about redemption when we first talked, but you do not trust me enough to begin this redemption.”

“That, and I’m not sure how to go about it,” Ceniro said honestly. “Would you actually join my group and follow my commands? If not, then I’ll cart you about until you do. _That_ was my intention. I don’t trust you enough to leave you with anyone else.”

Milton snorted. “At least you admit it.” He was quiet again for a moment and Ceniro waited. “But do you think it is easy for me, to resolve myself to following the orders of someone I despised for so long? I’d sooner follow Renee’s orders than yours. You may have broken my pride, but it is not _that_ broken.”

“I see,” Ceniro said, looking out at the vast wilderness of the plains, at the walls of cloud on the horizon. “I’ll give you more time, then.”

“Then I have another question,” Milton said, suddenly grimly intent on Ceniro. He could feel the other man’s gaze on him like a ballista bolt. “With your strength, your allies, your skill, why have you not taken power before now? Any power? You said that in a hundred years, no one will care what you did. I say to you that you are wrong. You have the power to make history. Perhaps you did, that day at Armica. Why do you not use it?”

“What would I use it for?” Ceniro asked, seriously, and sat down beside Milton, elbows on his knees as the other man was sitting, but he clasped his hands under his chin. “I know I could take over something big with force of arms. But does that mean I should? I think I should be responsible with my abilities, and that means not using them to rock too many boats. Unless I think it’s really important.”

Milton snorted. “And how do you determine that? Is the status quo of Elibe so perfect right now?”

“Maybe not, but I’m not going to just throw myself at socio-political situations either. Racism against Sacaeans, Western Islanders, and Ilians; poverty in Ilia; bandits in Bern and Sacae; how am I going to solve all these things? I’m a tactician, not a miracle worker.” He paused. This wasn’t something he had thought about quite as much. “You’re not the only person who’s ever taken or tried to take power with force of arms, and not even the only person who’s taken power with force of arms with more-or-less good intentions. But I still have faith in Zephiel.”

“Would you still, if it was your homeland?”

“I don’t know. But I’d probably try to work together with Zephiel in a more subtle fashion instead of replacing everything entirely.”

“Well, no hope for that now.”

“Besides, I’ve already changed history in my own small ways. I helped Lyn prevent her uncle’s seizing power, and I helped Pent find a special rock, and I helped Eliwood and Hector stop a madman. And now I’ve helped Pent seal away more power, to prevent it from being misused.”

“So you seal yourself away as well?”

“I’m not wasting my life or anything,” Ceniro said. “I’m just limiting the scale to what I think is good for me. Good for everyone. Like I said, people make things too complicated. I don’t _want_ to be a player on an international level. I’m not suited to ruling, and I’m not suited to politics. I don’t envy my Marquess friends their positions. I don’t even envy Pent and Louise. So I’m just a mercenary captain.”

“And that is also a thing that makes you dangerous,” Milton told him. “No one can predict what you will do next. Living beholden to no master is not good, when you yourself admit you do not like politics. Your decisions affect many, when you decide something is important. Leaders of nations will be watching you carefully.”

Ceniro glanced at Milton. There hadn’t been any resentment he could detect in that serious tone, but he wondered how pointed that message had been. “Perhaps. But it’s not like I charge in blindly, either. I have my reasons.” He tilted his head. “Thanks for not suggesting that it’s my parentage that makes me unsuitable for doing all these grandiose things.”

Milton grunted. “You have proven yourself definitively my better in force of arms. Whether I like it or not – and you may be sure I do not like it – I must treat you as an equal now.”

“Good.” Ceniro stood and went over to the tent nearby, returning a moment later with a straight-edged Lycian sword. “Then you can have this.”

Milton looked at it and did not take it. “We have one civil conversation and you’re offering me a weapon? To be sure, it’s only an iron-class weapon…”

“Iron-class weapons are inexpensive, light, and surprisingly durable,” Ceniro said sternly. “Take it and be happy about it.”

Milton took it, though his face betrayed no change in emotion.

“And I’ll let you be under Renee’s command for the time being. You know, if I hadn’t been a mouse and you hadn’t been such an ass, we would’ve had very interesting discussions at Lord Garlent’s,” Ceniro said cheerfully.

Milton grunted again. “If you say so.”

As he recovered the use of his arm, Lyn made him take up swordfighting again, with a new sword. At first he didn’t want to even touch it, but she insisted, a little impatiently, and after a while he got over himself and did as she said. It was more difficult than before, although not for the reasons he’d expected. Unlike he had feared, he had no emotional trouble handling it in practice and sparring. It was a little stiffer than he remembered, and his grip felt different, but other than that it didn’t take him long to get back to where he’d been before.

But if he had to fight in real battle again…

Well, a worry for another time. For now, they had enough to get by until all the wedding business was done, which would be soon.

They had not heard of Rovenna or Vellith since they got back, and Rigel pretended not to be worried. But then she was distracted by a letter from her chapter of shaman in Khafti, informing her that she could return home. Apparently, the head of her chapter had never really trusted Vellith, and had sent Rigel out as a decoy. But, decoy or not, the investigations of the other shaman had come to nothing.

Rigel thought about it for a while, but ultimately wrote back with guarded words saying that her investigations had ended as well, but she intended to remain with Ceniro’s group, which made Renee very happy.

And then there was the day when Fiora disappeared mysteriously and Kent’s poker face was completely unbreakable. Florina also swore she knew nothing about what her sister was up to, and while she didn’t seem too worried, she seemed sincere, so they believed her. “Um, Kent’s not worried, so why should I be worried? She’s my older sister, and the best pegasus knight of them all! She’ll be back.”

It was a day in June, just past Ceniro’s birthday, in fact – he was now twenty-two – and the sun was shining brightly. Kent was helping Ceniro, and Florina was helping Lyn, to get ready for their wedding. It wasn’t going to be much – to say their vows in the presence of their families and closest friends, and then to eat and drink late into the night. Wil had been ‘helping’ as well, until Kent sent him away to go keep entertaining Lord Hausen and Ceniro’s family with Florina and Renee.

He’d finished getting dressed in fine clothes – Lycian, for once; Lyn would be wearing fine Sacaean clothes, symbolic of the joining of their cultures – and stepped out of his tent when he paused and looked at the horizon. “Fiora’s back. But…”

“Ah,” Kent said to the first part of his sentence. “But?”

Ceniro made room for Kent to step out of the tent as well. “She’s brought people.” He shot a suspicious glare at Kent, whose calm stoicism was faltering into a most uncharacteristic grin. “What did you two do…?”

“Nothing that you would have approved of, but we thought better to ask forgiveness than permission,” Kent said, turning his head aside to try to hide the grin.

Ceniro sighed. “Who is it?”

“If all went well… everyone.”

“Everyone!?”

The others glanced towards him curiously at his shout, but then they all turned to look at Lyn, who had just emerged from the main ger, frowning curiously at him.

He stared back with his mouth open. Her formal deel enveloped her, draping her from neck to foot in thick, stiff layers of silk, in her favourite teal-blue colour but heavily, _heavily_ embroidered. Patterns and beads swirled in front of his eyes. Her hair mostly flowed free around her, fluttering in the wind and shining dark green in the sun; a headband held strips of embroidered cloth and shimmery golden strands of beads that framed her beautiful face and made tiny bell-like noises as she moved.

But underneath she was still Lyn, and her blue eyes promised him that she was still – and always – _his_ Lyn. And he loved her more than anyone else in the world.

But seriously, where had she gotten the clothes? “Where – how – when-” his voice cracked on the last word and he stopped and swallowed, not trusting himself to say anymore.

She giggled at his reaction. “In Bulgar, when we stopped in a couple days ago. My grandfather gave me the money.” She eyed him critically. “You’re not so bad-looking yourself.”

“Th-thanks.” They’d stopped in Caelin long enough for him to grab a formal tunic in burgundy velvet with gold embroidery and a fine green cloak, but he was nothing compared to her.

“Now, what was all the yelling about?” She looked westward, to where Fiora was steadily coming closer. “What is that?”

“That’s what I said,” Ceniro said, walking over to her side. “I think we have some mutineers in our group. Just look how disgustingly smug they are.” Kent couldn’t hide his laughter by this point, and after Wil and Florina stoped gaping, they started to laugh as well.

Lyn sighed and shook her head, making a cascade of tinkly noises. “There’s nothing for it. We’ll have to have a big party. They _have_ come all this way.”

“Do we have enough food?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Kent said. “Just go welcome your unexpected guests.”

Fiora had landed, and bowed to them, Rath and a Sacaean girl he didn’t know close behind her. “Sir Ceniro, Lady Lyn, it gives me great pleasure to present to you… a great many of your friends.”

“Every friend. Every single one of them,” Ceniro muttered under his breath, and Lyn squeezed his hand with amusement.

“CONGRATULATIONS!” shouted the crowd of people behind Fiora, and Ceniro and Lyn turned red.

“You really shouldn’t have,” they both began to say.

“Nonsense,” Eliwood said.

“We really wanted to support you, and by luck, we managed to get away from work,” Ninian said.

“It’s about time, you two!” Hector cried. “I mean, _I_ got married last month!” He put an arm around Freya, who was trying very hard to maintain a knightly detachment and failing. “And only Eliwood and his bunch showed up. I’m disappointed in these world-saving shenanigans. They’re inconvenient.”

“What?” Ceniro blurted out.

“Congratulations,” Lyn said faintly.

“And what are you doing here? How did you know?” Ceniro demanded of Pent and Louise, who for answer chose to envelop him in a hug. After a moment Pent reached out and dragged Lyn into the hug as well.

“I told you, I’m writing your sister!” Andy said loudly from behind them. “Speaking of whom, she’s here, right? We made plans…”

“Er, hello? Andy, right?” Anlie said, curtseying. Andy slowly blushed and began rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.

And there were children running everywhere. Not Klein, he was still in Louise’s arms, but other children, whom he hadn’t seen before. “Um, who-”

“My kids,” Yens said, proudly. “There’s Julian, and this is Maya, and that little angel is Helen, and there’s-”

“Ah, Kent!” Sain called, Salir by his side. “This is the merriest gathering I’ve ever seen! And I’ve seen a few! Good work.”

“Hey, where’s Renee?” Hector said. “I have news for her.”

“Yes, my lord?” Renee said, popping up with Rigel behind her.

Hector regarded her solemnly, then nodded firmly. “You want to stay with these guys?”

“Yes, please!”

“Then you can stay. Hey, isn’t that the jerk who-”

“We should let them get started,” Eliwood said, taking charge easily. “Hello, Lord Hausen! You look well. How are we setting this up?”

In a short time, Ceniro and Lyn were at the centre of a ring of friends, with their family and closest friends in the middle, nearest to them. The wind blew sweet among them, and the sun was bright and warm but not painful.

Ceniro and Lyn reached out and took each other’s hands. “We met by chance,” he said.

“By fate,” she said.

“And together, we overcame many obstacles.”

“And together, we’ll overcome many more.”

“So with Saint Elimine’s blessing, I will be your husband.”

“And as Mother Earth lives in the embrace of Father Sky, I will be your wife.”

He leaned forward and kissed her, gently, and didn’t even hear the cheering.

They ate and drank and danced late into the night, in among the city of tents that had sprung up in the area.

Before everyone got too tipsy, Ceniro stood to make an announcement. “Just to let you guys know, we’ve also changed the name of the group.” To something that wasn’t stupid, finally, but he didn’t say that out loud.

“I liked the old name,” Louise said mildly.

“Well, we can’t use it because you’re not here anymore,” Ceniro said. “It’s not the same group without all of you. Lyn?”

Lyn stood beside him, her regalia making shimmering sounds. “From now on, we’re no longer Ceniro’s Elite Company, but the Wind Warriors!”

“I’ll drink to that!” Hector cried, and they all raised their cups.

“To Ceniro and Lyn and the Wind Warriors!”


	15. Epilogue: Rising Star

Epilogue: Rising Star

“Eliwood! Thanks for coming!” Hector boomed across the inner garden of Castle Ostia.

“It’s truly been a while, hasn’t it?” Eliwood said, smiling at his old friend. “More than ten years since we managed to meet in person. Not since Lyn and Ceniro’s wedding, I think?”

“Well, you know how it is,” Hector said, flexing his broad shoulders. “Things start piling up, and before you know it, we’ve both grown older, haven’t we?”

“Indeed. But I remember our adventures together as if they were yesterday.”

“Same here. Though I think I’m actually glad not to be fighting battles like that anymore.”

Eliwood laughed. “You? You really are getting old, aren’t you?”

“Hey, you have as much crow’s feet as I do!” Hector’s brow wrinkled in concern. “How’s Ninian?”

Eliwood made a slight, almost imperceptible grimace. “Still ill. She spends most of her time in the garden with Isadora these days, getting as much fresh air as she can. It’s been six months… I wish I knew what else to do for her…”

“I’m sorry,” Hector said. “I hope it passes soon.”

“And Freya?”

“Doing quite well; still trying to return to active duty, even though her daughter and I keep telling her we need her more than the knights do. Oh! Speaking of which, is that your son over there?”

“Yes, it is! I’ve wanted to introduce you in person for ages, but… you know how it is.” Eliwood quirked and eyebrow and Hector smirked. “Roy! Come here, please!”

“Yes, Father?” The red-headed five-year old trotted up, fixing his wide blue eyes on the two men.

“Say hello to Lord Hector, Roy!”

“Ye-yes, sir! A pleasure to meet you, Lord Hector. My name is Roy.” He bowed prettily.

Hector’s face creased in a wide, genuine smile. “Roy, is it? Nice to meet you, lad. Well, I guess that means I should introduce my daughter, then! Lilina?” He turned and looked behind him, and there, peeking out from behind one of the pillars of the garden was a lock of blue hair and a large blue eye. “What? Are you being shy again? You don’t have to be nervous. This is your father’s old friend and his son.”

Lilina scampered from behind the pillar to behind her father’s leg, still peering around him nervously at Eliwood and Roy.

Eliwood knelt down and made his voice very gentle. “Hello, Lilina. This is Roy. He’s the same age as you.”

Lilina took a cautious step forward. “N-nice to meet you.”

Roy took a step forward himself, completely fearless to meet someone his own age. “Lilina? Let’s be friends. We can-”

Hector looked around. “Yes? Who’s there?”

“Oswin said we’d find you here,” said a familiar voice, and all four people in the garden brightened up.

“Uncle Ken!” Roy chirped.

“Aunt Lyn!” Lilina cried.

Eliwood looked at Hector. “So they’ve been adopted by your family, too?”

“Why not?” Hector said. “Speak of the devil. Ceniro, Lyn, well met!”

“And to you, Hector,” Ceniro said. “Eliwood! I was not expecting to see you here.”

“Nor I, you,” Eliwood said, smiling. “What a happy coincidence. Lyndis, you look as lovely as ever.”

“Thank you,” Lyn said smiling, but her smile turned to a frown as she looked at Hector. “Hector,” she said, “ _what_ is that _thing_ on your _face_?”

Hector tugged self-consciously at his blue beard. “What’s wrong with my beard?”

Eliwood winced. “Well, you really ought to have a mustache to go with it. It doesn’t look complete. What does Freya think of it?”

“She thinks it’s fine…”

“You look like a weirdo,” Lyn said bluntly. “Ah! Hello, Lilina! Hello, Roy! So you’ve finally met. How have you two been?”

“I’ve been good!” Roy said, smiling brightly. “Is Mark with you? He can play with us!”

“Yes, he’s right here,” Ceniro said, looking around. “Or, he was… Mark!”

A slightly larger boy with green hair, perhaps seven years old, jumped out of hiding, colliding with Ceniro’s leg. “Mwahaha! I got you, Dad!”

Ceniro snorted. “Yes, you got me. Look, Roy and Lilina are here.”

“Hi, Roy, hi, Lilina!”

“Let’s play over there!” Roy said, pointing to a different corner of the garden.

“All right!” Mark said, running ahead. Roy took Lilina’s hand and ran after him.

“Don’t be too rough!” Ceniro called after his son.

“They’re all cute children,” Eliwood said, and nudged Hector in the ribs. “Good thing yours took after her mother.”

Hector recoiled, acting affronted. “What? She looks just like me, doesn’t she?”

Eliwood smirked. “You’re a sarcastic one, Marquess Ostia!”

“Come on, now you’re the one putting on airs, Marquess Pherae!”

They all laughed. “I take it back,” Eliwood said. “The only thing older about you is your appearance! Don’t tell me you still behave like that after all this time!”

Hector rolled his eyes. “Only when I have good friends around. Or when I can annoy my wife.”

“Which means… constantly, right?” Lyn teased.

Ceniro sighed contentedly. “Ah, to meet up again and continue the banter as if it never stopped. I miss when we all went about together. In a way.”

“In a way?” Hector asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Well… it was pretty stressful, too, as you recall.”

“Yeah… people disappearing, people dying, fire dragons, madmen, the end of the world…” Hector grimaced. “I see your point. Still, we had the best companions anyone could ask for. I miss them still. Did I ever thank you for taking Armads off my hands?”

“Multiple times,” Lyn said, smiling. “Don’t worry about it.”

“So how’s work?” Eliwood asked.

“Not bad,” Ceniro said. “It’s been pretty quiet recently. We’re probably going to relocate to Ilia soon and see what good we can do there.”

“That Bernese lout still behaving himself?”

“Yes, Milton’s fine. Not going to pretend we like each other, but we’ve figured out how to get our skills to work together without yelling at each other, much, and that’s the important thing. But did we tell you, we found Rovenna?”

“Who’s Rovenna?” Hector asked.

“His cousin. Wyvern rider. Excellent fighter. She disappeared after I defeated him, and it turned out she’d been wandering in survival mode for some years before we located her and asked her to join. No sign of Vellith, Rigel’s brother – I think he went back to Khafti. Someone told us that he disappeared in a sandstorm in Nabata, but Rigel doesn’t believe it.”

“Still searching for Legendary Weapons, hm?” Eliwood said.

“Could be.”

“Renee and Rigel still doing all right?” Hector asked. “I remember they got married here a while back.”

“Yes, they’re doing fine, and talking about adopting.”

“Best of luck to them.”

“I’ll let them know. Hmm, we’ve had a monk join our group, an Etrurian named Trinn, which is fantastic – we really needed someone with his skills. Guy’s joined us, you remember him, right? And Yens’ oldest son, Julian, has joined us. It’s so strange to think our friends already have grown-up children… He’s already twenty-two.”

“Just wait a few years more,” Eliwood said, and chuckled. “Before my mother passed on, she warned me to keep an eye on Roy when he’s young. She said I grew up in the blink of an eye to her, and the same is going to happen to me and my son…”

For a few moments, the adults were silent, contemplative, while the sounds of fountains and leaves and the distant laughter of children filled the air.

“Oh!” Hector cried, holding up a hand. “By the way, you’ll never guess who’s been spotted canoodling with whom…”

“Oooh, gossiping, now, are we?” Lyn cried, leaning forward with a wide smile. “Who is it?”

“The head of the Ostian Espionage Division and the Chief Cleric.” Hector smirked.

“No way,” Ceniro exclaimed.

“What!?” Lyn cried. “I’m so happy for them!”

Eliwood just laughed.

“It’s about time, too,” Hector said. “I never thought they had any real interest in each other while we were all going about together, but… apparently they’ve grown some interest now.”

“Well, Matthew and Serra have quite a bit in common,” Eliwood said. “For instance, putting up with Marquess Ostia.”

Hector facepalmed. “Thanks, Eliwood. Just… thanks.”

“All teasing aside, that’s good to hear,” Lyn said. “I thought he’d never open up to anyone again.”

“She’s mellowed out a lot,” Hector said. “And matured, too. I wasn’t expecting them to get together, but… it’s not exactly a surprise now that it’s happened.”

“Indeed,” Eliwood said. “Well, if we’re moving on to shocking news, I heard the king of Bern died quite suddenly.”

“Ah, I heard about that, too,” Hector said. “According to my sources, he was killed in an assassination attempt on Prince Zephiel.”

“Zephiel? I hope he’s all right,” Ceniro said anxiously.

“It’s a strange tale,” Hector said, frowning. “At first, I’d heard that the prince was killed. Then new information came three days later saying that it was the king who had died.”

“So he’s all right, right?”

Hector shook his head. “I don’t know. We’ll have to wait for official word. They can’t hide a change in leadership for long.”

Eliwood looked around, shivered, although the day was warm. “Do you remember Archsage Athos’s prediction? Do you think something is happening in Bern?”

“I don’t know,” Hector said. “It seems early to assume so, and yet… I don’t feel comfortable about it. I should be happy that Desmond is gone, and yet…”

Ceniro and Lyn looked back and forth to either of them. “Well, if you ever need us, send word,” Ceniro said.

Hector made a face. “But you’re going to _Ilia_! How am I supposed to send word to you quickly _there_?”

“Don’t be dramatic, Hector,” Lyn said. “It’s only Ilia. We’ll keep our ears open.”

“Do you mind if I run this information by my political analysts?” Ceniro said. “By which I mean Renee and Milton.”

“Sure, but it can’t go any farther than that for now,” Hector said.

“Got it.”

Lilina came running back to them, red-cheeked from running. Her eyes were sparkling with laughter. “Father! Can I show Mark and Roy my new pony?”

“Yes, go ahead,” Hector said, smiling at his daughter.

“Okay!” she cried, and went running off again to the boys, who were hitting each other with sticks. Ceniro and Lyn sighed.

“Mark’s going to hurt Roy if he keeps that up…”

“His form is terrible!” Lyn said. “I’ll have to make him do all those drills again tomorrow.”

“Roy’s a bit younger, but I think he’ll be able to hold his own,” Eliwood said, watching the children again critically himself. “He studies hard, then?”

“He hangs off Lyn’s every word,” Ceniro said, smiling.

“Makes two of you,” Hector said, and Ceniro blushed. “Anyway, for the sake of our children’s futures, I’ll stop anything wicked from Bern. I’ll even sacrifice my life to make it so.” And a grim look crossed his face.

“Lord Athos did say Lycia would bring hope,” Eliwood said. “But Hector, if something does happen, I suspect it’s not up to us anymore. We’ll do what we can, but soon it will be time for our children to face the challenges of this world. Remember what we said long ago?”

“What, that my son was totally going to beat up your son to get revenge for you winning all our sparring matches?”

Eliwood looked mildly affronted. “You won almost half of them. And Lilina doesn’t look particularly interested in hitting things with sticks. No, that we have to prepare them to fight. Just in case we’re too old to protect them completely.”

“Mm,” Hector said. “Just in case.”

“Someday, no one will have to fight,” Ceniro said.

Hector snorted. “You keep believing that, my friend.”

Ceniro smiled. “I will. But in the meantime… Mark is determined to become the next Saint of Swords.”

“Good luck to him,” Hector muttered. “Who’s currently holding the title? Isn’t it Guy?”

“Yes, which only encourages him. It’s good for him, good to have a goal.”

“You think he’ll inherit the group?”

“I don’t know. Seems a bit early to be thinking about that. Anyway, Hector, call us _before_ you do any of this life-sacrificing business. I’d not like to leave my friends in the lurch.”

“Sure,” Hector drawled. “I’ll try to continuously predict the future two months ahead of time, give my messengers time to track you down at the ends of the earth.”

“So dramatic,” sighed Lyn. “All right, so what else have you been up to?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a parallel fic covering the entirety of this series from Lyn's PoV, check out [A Thousand Tiny Battles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305495/chapters/64050187), or Why Lyn Fell For Such a Dork. : D


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